


Fade to Black

by indiepjones46



Series: Death Becomes Her [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: -Ish, All the cool kids are doing it, BAMF Karen Page, BONUS CHAPTER WITH JESSICA POV, Be cool and read it, Canon-Typical Violence, Control Issues, David Lieberman is an asshole but a lovable one, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frank and Karen Have an Adventure, Frank is an arrogant asshole but he's trying, Graphic Description, Harlequin ain't got shit on me, I post fast, I won't leave you hanging, Jessica Jones comes along for the ride, Jessica Jones is an asshole but at least she's funny, Karen is addicted to lost causes, Lots of drinking, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Not your average love story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Porny porn porn, Post Defenders Season 1, Post Jessica Jones Season 1, Post The Punisher Season 1, Seriously I'm trying to warn you, Shit's violent y'all, Spoilers, Triggers, all the feels, beautiful smut, but more on an R rated level, i love porn, kastle - Freeform, post daredevil season 2, that means "UDS" (Unnecessarily Detailed Smut)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:45:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiepjones46/pseuds/indiepjones46
Summary: It's been six days since the night Frank Castle barged through her door and into her life for good. Karen was willing to give him as much space as he needed to come to terms with their relationship, but that didn't mean that she would let him shut her out. Especially when it came to settling their debt with Connie, the ex-Marine that cleaned up the mess named Brady Callahan. But first, she had standing plans for drinks with a friend.It's been six days since Karen Page exploded back into his life, and she was about as easy to handle as dynamite. She was stubbornly resistant to following orders, possessed a smart mouth that tasted like cherries, and had terrible taste in friends. None of that stopped him from coming back for more, though. Now, his debt to Connie has come due, but she's not looking for cash. She needs a favor, and it will take more than just The Punisher to accomplish it. He would have to rely on Karen, too, and that means accepting help from her alcoholic, super-powered friend. Good thing he had a friend of his own.





	1. Karen's Thursday Night Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own or profit from anything with a copyright and high-priced attorneys. I'm just playin', y'all. 
> 
> Beta: Just me. Feel free to point out any missing words so I can correct them. I'm chill like that.
> 
> Notes: You guys! Happy whatever the fuck you celebrate day! So long as it's done with love, I don't care who or what you celebrate. I got nothing but love for y'all this holiday, so I have worked my ass off during my three day weekend to start the second part of this series. Not sure how many parts it will have to it, but I'll keep at it as long as the muse whispers in my ear. Hope you enjoy the arc of this story, and you should definitely have an idea about where it's going by the end of the third (very long) chapter. This one is for you guys. See you in the funny papers!

Six days. It had been six days since the fateful night that Frank had barged back into her life. It was different this time, though. This time, Karen wasn’t afraid that he may not come back. She knew that she would be seeing him again, and as often as possible. Frank was now a part of her life, but she had to convince him to let her be a part of his. Frank was a stubborn man, but Karen was a smart woman, and she planned to give him plenty of incentive to stick around.

The past six days had been surreal, to say the least. She had seen Frank on three out of six of them, and had spoken to him on the phone the other three. It was more contact than she had expected from him so soon, but she was not about to complain. Their time together was full of hot sex, laughter, and more sex, and the days she didn’t see him were spent anticipating it. Even just hearing his gravelly voice on the other end of the phone was enough to make her pussy clench with desire. All she could think about was the smell of his skin, the taste of his kiss, and the feel of his body covering hers.

She tried to push him out of her mind, tried to concentrate on her assignment for the paper, but her body would not let her forget him. Fingertip-shaped bruises bloomed across her hip bones, her sore nipples chafed against the lacy cups of her bra, and her tender pussy gave a twinge of discomfort each time she sat down. She had no choice but to think about him, and it made her both happy and nervous. She was afraid of getting attached to him only to have him leave again, but being with him made her feel protected and loved, and she couldn’t help but grab on to it with both hands. 

Logically, she knew that this streak of happiness couldn’t last, but she was determined to enjoy it while she could. For now, Frank was proving to be reliable in communicating with her, and he had made a point to call her each night that they spent apart. The conversations had been short, but they were enough to sustain her until the next time she saw him again. In fact, she was expecting such a call anytime now.

It was Thursday, and each of them had separate plans for the night. Unfortunately, that meant it was unlikely that she would get to see him that day, but she still looked forward to hearing his voice. It had been six straight days of Frank Castle’s sexy growl in her ears, and she was fast becoming a junkie. She loved the thrill of provoking him until he pounced, and she had paid the consequences eagerly. She loved the feel of Frank’s body pinning her to the bed, and she reveled in the possessive passion he poured over her like potent wine. Karen found herself saying overtly dirty things just to get a rise out of him, literally. Frank, to his credit, always rose to the occasion. Literally.

Outside of bed, it had become something of a competition between them to see who could say the most scandalous thing to the other. Frank was a skilled and talented dirty talker, and he had succeeded in making her blush more than once. However, Karen had quickly realized that her words had the power to trigger his adrenaline-fueled instincts, and the resulting consequences had been more than satisfying. It was amazing how intense sex could be when you trusted your partner with your life.

Thursday afternoon, she had just sat down at the breakroom table with a salad when her phone pinged with a text alert. Thinking nothing of it, Karen opened the message, and instantly felt her face heat with a blush. It was a message from Frank. She ignored the interested gaze of the nosy gossip reporter sitting across from her, and read the text.

Frank:  _What color underwear are you wearing right now?_

She couldn’t suppress the smile that quirked up the corners of her lips as she typed back...

Karen:  _Who says I’m wearing any?_

With a smirk of confidence, Karen put her phone in her lap and picked up her fork to continue eating. She knew she was grinning like a loon while waiting for his reply, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She hadn’t expected to hear from him until much later in the day. This was a very good sign of things to come.

She had barely chewed her bite of salad before her phone alarmed again. All thoughts of her lunch were forgotten as she read his next message.

Frank:  _Jesus. What are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?_

Karen:  _You, if you’re available._

She laughed out loud when her phone rang seconds later. Aware of the interested stares of her coworkers, she stood to her feet and walked out into the hallway for a modicum of privacy.

The devil on her shoulder poked her, and she answered the call perkily, “Karen’s Pool Hall: I rack ‘em, you crack ‘em.”

Frank’s gravelly tone didn’t sound amused when he rumbled, _“What did I tell you about your mouth writing checks your ass can’t cash?”_

Karen didn’t even try to sound anything but happy when she replied with a laugh, “You started it. Now, you’re just mad because I’m winning it.”

He snorted before replying dryly, _“Yeah, we’ll see about that, doll. Listen, I been meaning to tell you that I’m meeting with Connie at Cosmic Diner tonight after Curtis’ group lets out. She said I should invite you to come, but I told her you had plans.”_

Hanging in the air unspoken between them was the reason for the meeting, but they both knew the purpose for it. Connie and her cleanup crew had made Brady Callahan disappear without a trace. There had been no word in the news about a body being found by local police that matched his description, and the cops had never followed up with more questions. They owed Connie a debt, and Karen was determined to pay her part of the price. She would not allow Frank to pay alone for saving her life. They were in this together, and they would both shoulder the cost of their actions.

Her smile faded, and she replied, “Why would you tell her that without asking me first? I want to be there, Frank. Don’t try to shut me out. I’m a part of this now.”

His tone turned defensive as he snapped, _“I can take care of it, Karen. Besides, I thought you said you were meeting a friend for drinks? Last I heard, that was called ‘having plans.’”_

She was barely able to disguise the mounting anger in her tone as she said, “My timeline is flexible, which you would know if you had asked me first. My friend is at that bar from open to close on Thursdays, so I can just see her while you have your group, and then meet you and Connie at the diner afterward. What time should I be there?”

She could practically hear him gritting his teeth across the silent phone line. _“Fine,”_ he bit out, _“Meet us at Cosmic Diner at 10 o’clock tonight. You let me do the talking, got it?”_

Karen took a deep breath and let it slowly before she replied with forced calm, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that, because I’ve already told you that I don’t allow anyone to dictate to me. Not even you.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in before she continued in a lighter tone, “I’ll see you tonight at the diner.”

She could tell he wasn’t happy when he replied darkly, _“One of these days, doll, we’re going to have a reckoning, you and me. See you tonight.”_

He ended the call without further remark, and Karen slipped her phone back in her pocket. Frank could be pissy all he wanted, but Karen was not going to allow him to push her away again. She would gladly accept his protection, but she would not allow him to shield her from the reality of his life, even the most bloody and deadly parts. She had not been joking when she’d told him she wanted all of him, and she would not stand for him trying to take care of things alone. Karen wanted a partnership with him where they shared the burden of their lives, and he was just going to have to get over it.


	2. Karen's Friend is an Asshole

Late that evening, Karen made her way to DJ’s Tavern, a little dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen that made Josie’s look like a 5-star establishment. The atmosphere at DJ’s was dark and sullen, smelled like stale beer and piss, and the regulars were all shady and rough around the edges, but she never worried about meeting her friend there. Though, to be honest, calling Jessica Jones her friend might be stretching the truth a bit. She wasn’t sure the cranky beauty even knew how to be friends with someone, but that had never stopped Karen from trying.

Six months ago, she met the superpowered woman for the first time at the NYPD precinct during the assault by The Hand. All she knew about her before that time was what she had seen in the news and read in the articles published by the _Bulletin_. Karen knew that Jessica Jones possessed super-strength and the ability to jump great distances, and she also knew about her saving the lives of multiple people who had been under the thrall of a shadowy figure named Kilgrave before Jessica had killed him. The rest, she had found out from Jessica’s adoptive sister and best friend, Trish Walker of the wildly popular talk radio show _Trish Talks_. Karen had struck up an easy friendship with the beautiful blonde woman during their hours of waiting for their friends to return from defeating The Hand, and they had both talked about Jessica and Matt and the pitfalls of caring for someone with enhanced abilities.

She would never forget the moment that Jessica, Luke Cage, and Danny Rand came walking back into the police station to greet their loved ones after the explosion at Midland Circle. She and Foggy had held on to each other and watched the door, but Matt had never walked back through it. It had only taken the sorrowful looks on the faces of the three remaining heroes to confirm their worst fears. Matt hadn’t made it out of the explosion. As everyone began to leave the precinct, Jessica had approached her outside to offer awkward and stilted condolences, and Karen had thanked her and replied that what she really needed was a drink. Since that had just so happened to be where Jessica was heading, too, they’d had their drink together at DJ’s. The private investigator with the doe’s eyes and upturned nose had easily outpaced Karen’s ability to handle alcohol, and during that night, an unspoken bond of comradery had bloomed between them.

Jessica supplemented her income as a PI by being a bouncer at DJ’s on Thursdays nights, though Karen had never witnessed her do more than sit at the bar and knock back shot after shot of whiskey. Most of the regulars gave her a wide berth, but anyone who dared to interrupt her drinking by starting a fight was summarily tossed bodily out in the street. Even after several months of meeting Jessica there for drinks on Thursday nights, she still felt like she didn’t quite have a grasp on the inner workings of her mind, but Karen couldn’t help but like her anyway. Jessica was a surly, sarcastic, drunken bitch, but Karen had caught glimpses of the compassionate and caring woman inside, and for some reason, she seemed to like Karen, too. At least, Jess liked her enough to catch up over drinks once a week.

When she walked in to the dive bar, she found Jessica at her normal bar stool with a half-empty bottle of cheap booze and two glasses in front of her. Even though the bar was packed for a Thursday night, the stools on either side of the pretty young woman were both empty, and everyone was pointedly ignoring her existence. Jessica had that effect on most people. If they weren’t turned off by her dead-pan sarcasm, they were quickly intimidated by her ability to lift them over her head without breaking a sweat. No one fucked with Jessica Jones, and Karen envied her the abilities that the PI so seemingly despised.

Karen placed her purse, gun fully loaded inside it, on the bar in front of her, and Jessica poured two fingers of amber liquor into one of the glasses before pushing it toward her without word. Karen braced herself for the burn of the cheap booze and tossed it back in one large swallow before pushing it back for a refill.

As Jessica wordlessly topped her off again, Karen said, “How’s business, Jess? You have any new cases you’re working on lately?”

The petite brunette made a rude noise and pushed the glass back to Karen. “Nothing more exciting than trailing unfaithful shitbags with jealous spouses. It barely pays the bills and is boring as fuck, but at least none of them wield samurai swords or can use The Force to send me flying into a brick wall,” she replied drily. “What’s new with you?”

Karen twisted the dirty glass between her fingers and replied nonchalantly, “Not much. I stopped an attempted rape by shooting the perpetrator, he later broke into my apartment and tried to kill me, and now he’s dead. Oh, and I’ve started seeing someone, too.”

Jessica absorbed all this before pouring another shot and tossing it down her throat and replied, “Sounds like a good time was had by all. Who’s the lucky guy or gal?”

This was the tricky part. The public at large believed that Frank Castle, aka The Punisher, was dead, so she had to be careful who she told about him. She had a feeling that Jessica could be counted on to keep the news quiet, though, so she leaned in and whispered, “Frank Castle. He’s the one that killed the guy who broke into my apartment, and things just sort of escalated from there.”

Jessica choked on her swallow of cheap whiskey, coughed, and said loudly, “You’re fucking the crazy guy who wears a skull on his chest?! I thought he was dead.”

Karen panicked, looked around to see if anyone was listening, and hissed furiously, “Be quiet! What’s the matter with you? He’s living under an assumed name now, and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Jessica, having apparently recovered her composure quickly, picked up her glass and tapped it against Karen’s with dull _clink_. “Consider me impressed, K. You’re banging an insane ex-Marine who single-handedly wiped out entire gangs in Hell’s Kitchen, not to mention the whole ‘dead family’ thing. You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Either way, you have my attention.”

Karen flinched at Jessica’s bald honesty, but she had come to appreciate that charming personality trait from the damaged private eye. Jessica Jones never pulled her punches verbally or physically. Karen never had to guess what was on her mind, because Jess offered her opinion freely without regard to societal niceties. She had zero fucks to give, and it was a refreshing, yet jarring, experience to be her friend.

Karen chuckled and took a measured sip of the watered-down whiskey. “I admit that you have a point, but he’s more than that, you know? Frank is a good man with a soft heart. I won’t deny that he has his demons, but then again, so does everyone else.”

Jessica’s bottom lip was pushed out as she nodded her head seriously. “I see, I see. So, what you’re telling me is that he’s got a big cock and knows how to use it. I get that. Been there, done that, and will probably do it again. Good for you, Karen Page. Get you some while the getting is good, because it will always go bad in the end.”

Karen shook her head with exasperation even as she felt her cheeks heat with a blush. “Okay, yes, the sex is amazing, but it’s more than that, at least for me. I just want the chance to show him we’re better together than apart, you know?”

Jessica raised a small fist to her lips, closed her eyes, and made a gagging noise in her throat. “Don’t say shit like that when I’ve been drinking this swill for two hours. I’d rather not get fired for puking all over the bar.”

“Didn’t he fire you three weeks ago when two patrons got into a brawl while you were passed out drunk in this very spot?” Karen taunted her back before adding, “Can we just talk about this like adults? Unfortunately for both of us, you are the closest thing I have to a female best friend, and I would like to talk to someone about this...situation.”

Jessica poured the remaining alcohol into her glass until the amber liquid quivered at the lip. She leaned down to suck away the excess before lifting the full glass to her lips and taking a healthy swallow. She grimaced and gasped, “Okay, I can do this. I can be supportive and all that bullshit.” She straightened on her stool and regarded Karen through hazy, unfocused eyes. “Let’s have it. Tell me all about how your love will save him from being the tragic, tortured hero. Explain to me why you think you can make him change his ways, and reform him from a killing machine into a family man again. I can nod and agree, and then we can start planning the color scheme of your wedding.”

Karen was stung by Jessica’s words, and she stood to her feet angrily. “You know what? You win, Jessica. For six months now, I have been trying to be your friend, but you apparently aren’t looking for one. No matter how many times you’ve pushed me away, I kept coming back to try again. I guess that answers your question about whether I’m brave or stupid, so congratulations.”

She grabbed her purse and prepared to storm off in a huff, but Jessica’s iron grip on her coat didn’t let her get very far. “Don’t leave, Karen. I’m sorry, okay? I’ve got a lot of excuses for being a bitch, but none of them are good. Just...sit back down, please?”

Karen resumed her seat stiffly, but she kept her purse in her lap for a speedy departure. “Are you going to mock me again? If so, get it over with quick, because I’m meeting Frank in an hour.”

Jessica sighed heavily and poured some of her liquor into Karen’s glass. “No, I’m not going to mock you again. I’m sorry about that. I’m not known for my social skills, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had a female friend that I wasn’t related to legally. I’m a little rusty on this whole friendship concept.”

Karen relaxed her grip on her purse and her shoulders released their tension. Her tone softened marginally as she replied, “It’s not that difficult. Just don’t be an asshole all the time.”

“Point taken. I should only be an asshole some of the time,” she conceded. “I’ll try to do better. How about I do more listening instead of talking? Start from the beginning and tell me what I need to know about the man behind the skull.”

Karen weighed the pros and cons of giving her another chance, but in the end, she knew that Jess was being sincere. Taking a deep breath, Karen began with the first time she met Frank Castle and spilled the details about all their encounters since then. Jessica already knew most of it from previous conversations they’d had over drinks, but this time, Karen didn’t hold back on the important details. She explained about Frank showing up out of the blue the previous Friday night, and how he had saved her life by killing Brady Callahan. She told her about Connie and her clean-up crew, and she even told Jessica about initiating sex with Frank and how amazing it had been.

Jessica, for her part, listened as attentively as her alcohol-soaked brain would allow, and asked several follow-up questions that made her a little uncomfortable.

“For the last time, Jess, I am not going to tell you how big Frank’s dick is, so stop asking!” Karen laughed with exasperation.

Jessica shrugged and finished off the last of the watery whiskey in her glass before reaching for Karen’s. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just show me with your hands.”

Karen knew her face was flaming with embarrassment, but she couldn’t resist Jessica’s crass request. She held her hands in the air, roughly nine inches apart, and laughed when Jess spluttered and choked on the last swallow of Karen’s drink.

“Jesus, K! No wonder they call him The Punisher, and I don’t think it’s because he exterminates bad guys,” she cracked wise. She slapped a $20 bill on the bar, and slipped into her black leather jacket before winding a puffy blue scarf around her neck. “Let’s go, princess. I have to meet this guy.”

Karen’s eyes widened with surprise and she replied hastily, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Jess. We’re meeting with Connie, and she may not like having an uninvited guest show up. Not to mention the fact that you and Frank should never be in the same room together. No offense, but that’s a recipe for disaster.”

Jessica stumbled before righting herself and brushed off Karen’s steadying hand on her arm. “Pssht, it will be fine,” she slurred drunkenly. “You’re having coffee at a diner, for God’s sake. I can behave myself, I promise. Besides, I should probably eat something to soak up some of this alcohol. A real friend wouldn’t abandon me in this condition.”

It was moments like these that made Karen wonder why she was so drawn to this strange, damaged woman. Of course, Jessica would pick the absolute worse time to pull this stunt. Frank was not going to be happy with her if she showed up with Jessica unannounced, but Jessica was not about to be dissuaded from the idea. Karen knew she was being manipulated into bringing her along, but she was also encouraged by this progress between them. Jessica had never once initiated contact with her beyond their standing Thursday night drinks, and Karen had given up hope that Jess would ever open up to her and grow their friendship. This was the opportunity that Karen had been waiting for, and even though the timing sucked, she had to take advantage of it.

Karen dug her cell phone out of her pocket and sighed heavily. “You are such a pain the ass. Let me at least text him to say that you’re coming, too. I’m not going to put him in a difficult situation with his friend.”

As Jessica leaned over the bar to argue loudly with the bartender, Karen’s fingers flew over the flat screen of her smartphone.

Karen: _My friend wants to meet you and I’m brining her with me to the diner. Ask Connie if that’s okay._

It only took seconds before the screen lit up with glowing dots indicating Frank’s return message.

Frank: _I’m not asking her that. The answer is no._

Karen grit her teeth at his obstinance and thought about the best way to respond. Seconds later, she replied.

Karen: _I wasn’t asking you, Frank. I’m asking Connie. Tell her that my friend is Jessica Jones, and that her sister is Trish Walker. Lots of potential for business with a wealthy talk show host that has a sister that can lift cars._

She held her breath as she waited for his reply. It wasn’t long in coming.

Frank: _Godammit, Page. Hold on a minute._

Karen had a feeling that she was going to pay for this later, but she wasn’t too worried about it. Connie had impressed her as a savvy businesswoman, and the lure of snagging a client as rich and famous as Trish Walker would be irresistible for her. Connie was the one she was worried about making angry, but she could handle Frank, at least she thought she could.

Frank: _Connie said she would be delighted. We’ll talk about this later. See you in fifteen._

Karen winced as she tucked her phone back into the pocket of her coat. Frank was definitely pissed, and knowing Jessica, he was likely to be even more so before the night was done. She had a feeling that her hopes of getting laid after the meeting were looking grim.

Jessica, on the other hand, looked excited for the first time since they’d met. Her hazel green eyes sparkled with life, and her pouty lips were pulled up in a smile. She was transformed in Karen’s mind from a bitter alcoholic into a stunning beauty.

“We ready to roll?” Jessica asked as she flipped the bird to the shouting bartender.

Karen slung her purse over her shoulder and followed Jessica to the door. “Yeah, we’re all set. What’s his problem?” she asked, tossing her head toward the cursing man behind the bar.

Jessica rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed, “He says he’s not paying me for working since he fired me three weeks ago. I told him I showed up and did the job anyway, so he owes me three weeks’ pay. He disagreed and said I’m banned from showing up ever again. Blah, blah, blah.”

Karen chuckled as she flagged down a taxi. “He sounded serious to me. How about we start drinking at Josie’s on Thursday nights? It’s much classier than DJ’s any day of the week.”

Jessica stifled a burp behind her hand, and Karen nearly passed out from the fumes. Jess slid into the back seat of the taxi and patted the seat next to her. “I’ll fit right in, because I’m classy as fuck. Let’s go, princess. I need coffee and pancakes three hours ago.”

Karen shook her head in defeat as she took her place in the cab and gave the driver their destination. She sat back in the seat next to her friend, and said, “Why do I have the feeling that I’m going to regret this?”

Jessica offered her a mirthless smile and replied, “Because you probably will. That’s the price you pay for being in my life--one regret after another. Just ask Trish.”

Karen didn’t bother to respond, but she doubted Jessica would have heard it anyway. She was a million miles away as she gazed out the taxi window at the flashing lights and noise of Hell’s Kitchen. It was the most honest and vulnerable glimpse Karen had ever gotten into the heart of the enigmatic woman, and it broke her heart. Jessica Jones was just another lonely soul who was afraid of allowing anyone to get too close. Karen understood that, because she was the same. She finally understood what kept drawing her back to Jessica week after week, and it gave her hope that maybe they could help each other.

But first, she had to survive the night, and knowing her luck, it would not end well for her.


	3. Frank Has Dinner With The Boss, The Beauty, and The Bitch

Frank POV

 

Six days. It had been six days since the night Karen Page had exploded back into his life, and each day that had passed had been one new explosion after another. When he was with her, all he wanted to do was to touch her and hear her laughter. When they were apart, he spent his time remembering the way her pale skin blushed red when she came, and the feel of her pussy clenched so tightly around him. He was fast becoming addicted her, and the feelings she stirred in him triggered instincts he thought had died along with Maria and the kids. She both thrilled him and terrified him in equal measure, and the dueling emotions were building to an inevitable _boom_.

Karen Page had a way of challenging him at every turn, and she never failed to impress him with her boldness. She wasn’t afraid of him in the least, and it was a refreshing, if frustrating, change from the way Maria had treated him. Sure, he and his wife had more than their fair share of fights, but Maria had been a master at withdrawing from him with hurt feelings when he had crossed a line. Karen never backed down from him, and never shied from telling him exactly what she thought, and it threw him for loop every time. His instincts screamed at him to protect her, shield her, and fuck her, but he knew that it wouldn’t be easy. Karen was stubbornly independent and resistant to Frank’s attempts to take care of things, and she refused to be to sheltered from the graphic realities of his life. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react to her, and she most definitely kept him on his toes.

Like tonight, for example. He had assumed that Karen would just let him handle settling their account with Connie, but he should have known better. She had shut him down fast, and insisted on being there, too. Frank didn’t like having Karen so close to the illegal side of his life, but when it came to her, he had precious little resistance to her wants and needs. Apparently, including bringing Jessica Fucking Jones along to this meeting.

Frank knew all about the superpowered female private eye from reading about her in the news, but he had never met her. It should have occurred to him that Karen would be friends with the alcoholic with an attitude problem, but he had never thought to ask who she was meeting with for drinks. He had stupidly assumed it would be another female reporter at the _Bulletin_ , but no, it could never be that easy with her. Instead, she’s out pounding drinks with a dangerous super that helped take down The Hand. It was bad enough that Karen was so enmeshed with Murdock, yet another dangerous person, but now she was besties with a psycho strongwoman, too. Why did she always manage to attract the dangerous ones?

Frank snorted at the irony of that thought, and shook his head as he sipped from a mug of steaming coffee at Cosmic Diner. Across the booth from him, Ret. Lieutenant General Consuela Garcia deftly added cream and sugar to her own cup with her only remaining arm. Losing her left arm may have ended her career in the military, but it had not stopped the middle-aged woman from continuing to work. Connie ran a legitimate crime-scene cleanup business that contracted with the City of New York, but it was her side business that brought in the real money. She and her crew also moonlighted as cleaners of a different kind. They were the kind of cleaners that made evidence disappear, and business was booming. Besides his buddy, Curtis, Connie was the only other member of their support group that knew his real identity. She had recognized him from the first meeting, and they had quickly become friends.

“What’s got your feathers all ruffled, Frank?” the gruff older woman asked. “This is exciting stuff. We’re about to meet one of the defenders of Hell’s Kitchen. _Mi sobrino_ works for the NYPD, and he has some interesting stories to tell about Jessica Jones.”

Frank leaned back in the booth and threw his arms over the long bench. “Yeah, that’s the problem, Con. I don’t want Karen anywhere near that bag of cats. She’ll get hurt eventually.”

Connie chuckled before sipping her coffee. “Careful, Frank. You’re getting awful close to the pot and kettle territory.”

Frank huffed and replied drily, “Yeah, yeah. I hear what you’re saying, but there’s a difference between what I can do and what Jones can do. People with powers attract equally powerful enemies, and all I got is a gun and my fists. If Karen gets caught in the cross-fire of their battles, I may not be fast enough to save her. It’s just better for her to stay away from people like that, that’s all I’m saying.”

Connie hummed her disapproval and replied mournfully, “Oh, my boy, you are about to make a terrible mistake. I can see it written all over you in the set of your jaw, so let me just stop you right there. I know I am not your commanding officer or your relative, but I am telling you to listen to me.” She paused until Frank’s attention was squarely on her before she continued, “Don’t you make the mistake of trying to tell that young woman how to live her life. She does not need you to validate her choices, she needs you to support them. That includes learning to accept and tolerate her choice of friends.”

Frank reacted with knee-jerk defensiveness. “You don’t have to preach to me about that, Con, because Karen Page does what she wants when she wants to do it. She has made that quite clear to me on several different occasions.”

Connie smiled softly and replied, “I knew I liked her. She’s good for you, Frank. She buffs away some of that sharp edge on you. The only thing you have to do is not fuck it up with some caveman bullshit.”

Before he could offer a reply, the bell on the door rang cheerily to announce new arrivals. Frank turned his head, and he spotted Karen walking inside while steadying the obviously drunk brunette woman next to her. Her golden hair spilled down over her shoulders, and her cheeks were pink with the frosty air of New York City in November. Her brilliant blue eyes met his, and her lips lifted with a happy smile. He couldn’t help but offer a smile of his own, but he was pretty sure it was more lecherous than happy.

“Oh, my friend, you’ve got it bad,” Connie warned him under her breath as the two women arrived at their booth.

Frank didn’t believe in lying, so he said nothing. Connie scooted over graciously to allow Jessica Jones to slide in next to her, but Frank didn’t move. Just as he had hoped, it had not dissuaded Karen from squeezing in next to him until she was plastered along his side with his arm across her shoulders. On impulse, he leaned in and pressed a kiss against her head and whispered, “Good to see you, doll. Don’t forget we need to have a chat after this.”

Karen shot him a peeved look before turning to speak with Connie. Jessica, completely ignoring the introductions, flagged down a passing server and said, “I need a gallon of coffee, strong and black like my ex-boyfriend, three pancakes, two orders of bacon, crispy not limp, and a side of hashbrowns with onions and cheese.” As the they all looked at her with raised eyebrows, Jessica met Frank’s gaze for the first time. Her lips quirked with a sarcastic smile as she added, “Oh, and you can put it on his bill.”

The waitress looked to him for approval, and he nodded his agreement with a roll of his eyes. The server took the rest of their orders, and she soon left with the promise of bringing more coffee. Frank refused to drop his eye contact with the powered woman. Jessica Jones was a walking disaster, and he would not let her pull Karen into her bullshit. He could be civil for Karen’s sake, but that didn’t mean he had to be friendly.

Her eyebrow winged up as she matched him stare for stare, and Frank broke the silence first. “So, you’re the infamous Jessica Jones everyone’s been talking about. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He left the implied insult to hang in the air for a ripe moment before she grinned and peeped over the table at his lap. “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you, too, Frankie Boy.” She collapsed back into her seat as Connie snickered next to her and Karen groaned behind her hands. “You look pretty good for a dead man.”

Frank ground his teeth together and shot Karen an annoyed look that she pointedly refused to meet. Frank wanted to come back with a cutting insult, but he was mindful of Karen’s watchful eyes. Instead, he muttered, “Whatever. Just keep your mouth closed about what’s said at this table, and we won’t have a problem. Got it?”

He felt Karen stiffen next to him, but Jessica wasn’t intimidated in the least. The sassy brunette mimed locking her lips before she replied with slurred speech, “Sir, yes, sir, Mr. Punisher, sir. I’m just here for dinner and a show. I can’t afford Netflix, and this is free entertainment.”

There was a bite of rebuke in her tone when Karen snapped, “Jess, you promised me.”

Jessica tossed her head back and sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, K. I’ll behave myself, if he will.”

Frank blinked as Karen’s fingernails bit into the skin of his thigh through the denim of his jeans. Her hand was alarmingly close to his crotch, and her tight grip on his leg was causing certain body parts to stand up and take notice. Thank God for the table shielding them view, because he did not want to put on any kind of show for Jessica Jones. He would never give her ammunition to use against him.

“Frank is perfectly capable of being civil, and I’m sure he’ll remember that,” Karen replied crisply as her nails dug into the tender skin of his inner thigh.

He wasn’t sure whether to be pissed or horny, but either way, it would behoove him to get the show on the road so he could get Karen alone to figure out which one. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Frank replied drily as he shifted in his seat to loosen her grip on him. “Connie, why don’t you take the lead on this one. Give us the rundown on the job, and how much this is going to cost us.”

Connie tipped her head in agreement, and with a smile flirting on the edge of her lips, she replied, “Of course. The job was successfully completed without incident or witnesses. The package has been disposed of in such a way that it will never be found, and all trace of its presence in Miss Page’s home has been erased.”

He felt Karen’s body go limp with relief, and he eased closer to her to provide a bolster. She gushed, “God, Connie, I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t showed up.”

Before Frank could interject that he would have handled it, Connie replied kindly, “Any friend of Frank’s is a friend of mine. That being said, there is still the matter of the bill.”

Karen’s grip on his leg tightened again, but her tone was confident when she replied, “Of course! Frank and I will be happy to pay whatever the going rate is for something like this. Won’t we, Frank?”

He heard the implied threat in her tone, and reluctantly replied, “Lay it on us, Con. What’s the damage?”

Before she could reply, the waitress returned with their orders, and distributed plate after plate of steaming food. She planted the syrup and full carafe of coffee in the middle, and left them to their business once more.

Jessica, appearing entirely unconcerned with their discussion, had just taken a large bite of dripping pancakes when Connie picked up the thread of their earlier conversation seamlessly. “Normally, you would be looking at a price tag of around $10,000 for a rush job--“

Jessica choked on her food, coughed, swallowed, and then exclaimed loudly, “Jesus Christ, lady! It took you one hour! You seriously get away with charging 10 large an hour? I’m in the wrong business, apparently.”

Frank hung his head, Karen shushed her with furiously whispered curses, and Connie laughed uproariously. Frank shot the mouthy detective a look that should kill, but Jessica only shrugged and added, “What? I just hope you get a Friends and Family discount, that’s all I’m saying.”

Connie dabbed at the corner of her eye and chuckled, “Believe me, young lady, I earn every penny of that fee. I have a large crew and subcontractors to pay, and their work don’t come cheap.”

Frank was done hashing out the details. He didn’t know about Karen, but he had a reserve of cash stashed nearby for such emergencies. Ten grand would put a serious dent in that reserve, but it was worth every penny to keep Karen safe. “Don’t worry about it, Con. We can pay that, no problem.”

He thought the blood circulation was going to cut off from his dick if Karen’s nails dug any deeper into his thigh beneath the tabletop. Thankfully, Connie spoke again before Karen could make a reply. “Oh, I’m not worried, because I’m not asking you to pay me back in cash. I would much rather you do a favor for me in return.”

Frank’s gaze shot to Connie’s, and he could see the seriousness of her request glinting in their chocolate depths. Connie was a formidable soldier, and for her to need his help, it must be deadly serious. “Name it, and consider it done,” Frank said flatly.

Karen was quick to second him, “Whatever you need, Connie. We’ll be happy to help.”

Jessica crammed a large bite of shredded potatoes in her mouth and added, “Don’t look at me. Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

As if of one mind, the other three occupants of the booth ignored her and continued their conversation. Connie leaned in across the table, and he and Karen did the same. In a low whisper, Connie explained, “I got a phone call two weeks ago about a side job. It was a new referral, so I was hesitant to accept, but he was offering a substantial payday to perform a cleanup with no questions asked.”

Karen’s nose for trouble quivered with excitement as she said, “You didn’t take it, did you?”

Frank already knew the answer to that question. “What did you see when you showed up?”

Connie and Frank shared a knowing look, and she turned pale as she whispered, “It was a bloodbath, Frank. It looked like an entire family had been executed. There were five victims of Asian descent that ranged in age from around 70 to 10. There was no one left alive in the residence, and the payment was waiting, in cash, in a duffle bag on the floor. I took one look at that scene, and me and my crew got the fuck out of there.”

Frank pried Karen’s hand off his numb thigh as she asked, “Who was it that called you, Connie? Has he called you since you backed out of the job?”

“He never gave me a name, but he said that one of my regulars recommended my services. It was the only reason I took the job under anonymity, but when I asked him about it afterward, he had no clue what I was talking about. Whoever made that phone call to me was very slick. Even the phone number he called me from has been disconnected, and I’ve had no further contact from him. Something about this isn’t right, Frank. My gut is telling me that this man is still out there, and more families could die,” the former Lt. General told him.

Frank’s blood boiled with fury against the faceless man that had dared to end the lives of an entire family. He would hunt the bastard down for free, and still pay Connie the money she was due. In fact, he would give her a bonus for pointing him in the right direction. “Give me all the information you have on him, and I’ll take care of the rest,” he assured her with intent dripping from his tone.

Karen pulled a notepad and ink pen from the depths of her purse and began scribbling notes. “We’ll need to know the date, time, phone number, and address of the crime scene. _We’ll_ take over from here.”

Jessica, who had been conspicuously silent as she finished her meal, said suddenly, “Good thing Karen has a friend who is a licensed private investigator, because you’re going to need one to find this guy. Count me in.”

Before Connie could reply, Frank snapped, “No fucking way, Jones. I don’t want you anywhere near this. I got a friend of my own that I can call. A friend that I trust.”

A draft of cool air saturated his clothes as Karen pulled away from him. “That’s not your call to make, Frank,” her voice cracked him like a whip. “I am an equal partner in this, and I say that we need her help. You’re welcome to include your friend, too, because I trust your judgement. I would ask you to do the same.”

“Damn,” Jessica whispered loudly, “That was savage.”

For the first time that evening, Frank felt cornered, but he didn’t give in to the instinct screaming at him to lash out. Instead, he took a deep, calming breath, and said through clenched teeth, “We can talk about this later. For now, let’s get the information we need, and we can make a plan from there, okay?”

It may not have been the answer Karen was looking for, but she nonetheless turned her attention back on Connie and away from Frank. Connie rattled off the details that she could remember as Karen jotted everything down in her notepad like a good reporter. Karen smelled a story, but Frank only smelled blood. He had a feeling this mission would not be a smooth one to completion.

When her well of information had finally run dry, Connie slapped a $50 bill on the table, and made motions to leave. “Well, it’s been fun kids, but I have to go home. Gabe gets antsy if I’m not in by midnight.”

Frank picked the money up and firmly pressed it back into her palm. “Hey, you’re money’s no good here, Con. I got your six, you hear me?”

Connie shook her head with a smile, and stuffed the money in her coat pocket. “I know you do, _El Castigador_. I don’t like the feeling of this one. Be careful, all three of you,” she admonished them sternly as she made her way out of the booth. She bumped into Jessica on her way out of the booth, and Connie turned to address her personally when she gained her footing. “Miss Jones, I have to say it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope you’ll remember to call me if you ever have need of my services.”

Jessica regarded her suspiciously and said, “What, you got a business card or something? How do you even advertise for such a thing?”

Frank chuckled when Connie liberated two business cards from her pocket as if by magic. She handed them to her, and quipped, “Please pass along the extra to your sister, Trish Walker. I’m a big fan of show, and I guarantee strict confidentiality.”

Jessica’s expression was obviously puzzled, and Karen leaned over the table to look at the cards. Jessica said, “This is just a picture of the cartoon Hispanic maid from _Family Guy_ and a phone number. I’m pretty sure this is copyright infringement.”

“The people I give them to are in no position to tattle, now are they?” Connie retorted. She turned to offer her farewells to him and Karen, and then promptly left them all behind, sitting at the table together, speechless.

The silence between the three of them only lasted for a brief moment before Karen said abruptly, “Jessica, did you just steal that $50 bill from Connie’s pocket?”

Jessica tossed the crumpled bill on the table and said defensively, “What? It wasn’t stealing. I was just helping her fulfil her intentions for that money. That should be enough to cover both of our meals, and she can write it off as a business expense.”

Frank’s nostrils flared, and his temper followed suit. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” He nudged Karen out of the booth until they were both standing outside of it. He passed Karen her purse, and he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He dropped another $50 on the table, and said, “That should cover everything, and the leftover goes to the server. It’s been real, Jones. Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

Karen planted her feet and would not be moved by his hold her elbow. “Look, you’re both assholes, but I care about both of you. Can you please try to work together for my sake? The more help we have, the faster we can catch this murdering bastard. Hopefully, before he does it again.”

Damn it, Frank hated when she pulled that shit. He couldn’t deny her anything she asked for, and he was pretty sure she knew it. He sighed heavily, and said in a more moderate tone, “Fine. I’ll call my guy tomorrow morning and get him started on the phone number. As for the private _dick_ ,” he stressed, staring holes through Jessica’s skull, “She can start doing research on the address Connie gave us. Me and you will follow up with Connie’s customer that gave the referral. I’m not buying that he’s innocent in all this.”

Jessica tossed back the last drops of her coffee before she slid out of the booth like flowing whiskey. “Sir, yes, sir,” she mocked him with a half-assed salute before she started to walk past them toward the door. On her way past them, she landed a loud smack against Frank’s ass that had him cussing a blue streak. Someone should remind her that she possessed super strength.

As she walked out the door of the diner, she called back, “Bye, K! Call me tomorrow! I hope I didn’t ruin your chances at getting laid!” The door shut behind her, but the entire restaurant heard the echo of her voice saying, “ _I’m lying!”_

Frank tipped his head at the server and used Karen’s elbow to steer her to the exit. “About that chat we need to have...,” he trailed off ominously as they left the diner and hailed a taxi.

Karen, looking decidedly unenthused, sighed, “My apartment is closest. You can yell at me there so I can take my shirt off to distract you.”

Frank held the taxi door open for her to slide inside, and muttered, “Yeah, I just bet you will, damn it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***See? I told you would start to see the plot! Don't worry, friends. Me being me, there will also be plenty of hot, smutty sex. That's just how I roll. If you have time, take a second to drop me a line and let me know what you think! I love to chat with people, and I reply to everyone! If you haven't notice by now, I am annoyingly friendly. Peace, love, and kindness, my friends! I'm out for the next day to unwrap gifts, install batteries, and gorge on sugar and bacon.***


	4. Frank Learns about Compromise and Rewards

Frank’s POV

 

Frank didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to bite his tongue until they were safely behind the five locks on Karen’s apartment door.

“What the fuck, Karen?” he demanded without explanation as he shed his leather jacket. “What the fuck were you thinking bringing Jessica Fucking Jones to the table?”

Karen edged past him to deposit her coat on the hook before draping her scarf and hat on top. “I was thinking that Jessica is my friend and I care about her, and I was thinking that she has a lot to bring to said table. I was also thinking that I wanted her to meet my...other friend I care for.”

Frank refused to be sidetracked by the long pause before she finished that sentence. He had a point to make, and he needed to get it out before she distracted him. She had become quite adept at it recently, too.

“I get that you had good intentions, doll, but Jones is a walking train wreck with a drunk conductor. She’s dangerous, and it’s only a matter of time before you get caught on the tracks,” Frank warned her. Out of new habit, he sat on the couch to divest himself of his shoes, socks, and weapons. He added churlishly, “Were you sitting at the same table tonight? She’s unpredictable, loud, and crass. Can you honestly tell me that you trust her?”

Karen dropped her purse on the table with a loud _thunk._ She toed her winter boots off angrily and sent them sailing across the room to thump against the wall. “I trust her like I trust you, Frank, and that should be good enough reason for you to give her a fucking chance.”

Frank’s bare toes sunk into the deep plush of the rug as he stood back up to his feet. He folded his arms across his chest, and prepared for a battle. He wasn’t going to back down on this. It was for her own good. “Why her, Karen? Just tell me why you chose her to be your friend. I don’t for a minute believe that she pursued you. No, it was all you. You chose Jessica Jones to be your friend, and I want to know why.”

Karen’s cheeks were burning with righteous indignation, and he could see the mounds of her breasts pressing against the material of her blouse with each, quick breath. She closed the gap between them and faced him without hesitation. “If you’re trying to say that I chose her because she is a powered person, I will kick your ass out of my apartment right now. Yes, I pursued a friendship with Jessica Jones, but not because she can leap tall buildings in a single bound. I chose her for the same reason I chose you. She is brave, strong, and unflinching in the face of death. She is also suffering, lonely, and lashes out when she feels threatened. I chose her despite her abilities, not because of them. Just like Matt, and just like you.”

Frank’s blood raced with the thrill of confrontation added to the slow burn of the simmering lust between them. He loved it when she stood up to him, and he enjoyed the challenge she presented him. Spending time with Karen was a new kind of mission for him, one that relied on words instead of weapons. The only problem was that Karen was the expert on this battlefield, not him.

“You think Jessica Jones is going to have your back? She can barely stay sober long enough to shower, much less be there when you need her. As for Murdock? That fucking guy has done nothing but break your heart over and over again, and now he’s God knows where while his so-called family back home mourns his death. You’re seriously going to lump me in with them? I knew I was no good for you, doll, but I’m leagues better than them,” he snapped. Just the mention of Murdock’s name on her tongue was enough to make him see Red.

Karen’s eyes snapped with sapphire flames as she quivered with mounting temper. “Oh, my God! Are you jealous? Is that what this is all about?” she asked incredulously. “I don’t know whether to laugh or kick your ass right now. Let me just lay it all out on the table for you so there is no misunderstanding, okay?”

Frank did not think this was going to be okay for him at all. Karen’s words had a way of slicing him down to his core and exposed parts of him that had been damaged and broken the day his family died. She wielded her tongue like he wielded a gun, and she was merciless in her use of it. When it came to speaking her mind, Karen was every bit The Punisher herself, and Frank was her target.

Frank knew better than to offer a reply, and he watched her warily as she closed the distance between them. Her expression was inscrutable to him, but her tone was mild when she stated, “Your friends are my friends, and my friends are your friends. That’s how a partnership works, Frank. We pool our resources to be better together than we are separately. That requires compromise on both our parts, but I will not be moved on this. Jessica is my friend, and we need her help. Can you get on board with that, or not?”

Something about her clinical calmness made him irrationally angry. He wanted her to admit that he was the better choice than Murdock and Jones to protect her. He was the better man for the job of taking care of her, and he wanted to hear her say it out loud. Frank wanted her to admit that he was more than just a partner to her, because they were more than that. He wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge what their relationship meant, but he still needed to know that she was just as fucked up about him as he was about her. He didn’t know how to use words to get the information he needed from her, but he did know how to use his body to get a reaction out of her. He may not be able to win this battle, but he would get his due.

“Since I’m the only one compromising in this situation, what do I get in return for my sacrifice?” he asked, closing the distance between them and invading her personal space. His fingers found the buttons on her blouse, and he began to open each one with purpose. “Putting up with Jones for the next few days is huge sacrifice on my part, and I think that deserves a reward, don’t you?”

Her pulse jumped, and her pupils dilated as he reached the final button. “God, yes,” she gasped as Frank patiently peeled the blouse down her shoulders before tossing it on the chair. “She really can be a pain in the ass, so it would have to be a good one. What do you want, Frank? If it involves us being naked, the answer is yes.”

Just that quick, all the blood in his body pooled in his hard, aching cock. The power rush her words gave him made him feel almost dizzy with possibilities, and his imagination took flight. He had expected her to fight him, but instead, she handed him the fucking keys to the armory with permission to loot. Even better than weapons, though, she was handing him control, even if it was of her body for the night.

Frank’s right hand traveled over her chest until he cradled her long, graceful neck in his palm. His thumb brushed back and forth leisurely over her rabbiting pulse, and he breathed, “You might regret that, doll, because once these clothes come off, I’m in charge. That means you actually do what I say instead of arguing about it. You want to change your answer?”

Karen’s eyelashes fluttered against her cheek, and she swallowed thickly past his gentle hold on her throat. “Why would I do that when it’s what we both want? Go ahead and punish me, Frank. I want you to.”

Frank’s vision went fuzzy and he felt unmoored from his body. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she threw him another curveball. It was like she knew exactly what to say to push every one of his buttons, and he sometimes worried that she might push him too far. He never wanted to hurt her again, but the chaotic emotions that warred inside him when he was with her could be unpredictable and volatile. The things that come out of her mouth definitely didn’t help matters, either. She was unlike any woman he’d ever been with before, and she was fearless in telling him exactly what she wanted from him sexually. It was a new kind of freedom that Frank had never realized he’d been missing, and his body reacted with an adrenaline-fueled frenzy when she said shit like that.

Frank’s hands eased the straps of her bra down her shoulders and he rasped, “Don’t let me go too far, doll.”

Karen’s gaze collided with his own, and he saw trust, excitement, and anticipation swimming in their shimmering depths. Without breaking eye contact, she released the clasp on her bra and allowed it to drop to her feet. “You won’t. I’m not worried in the least.”

That made one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Choo choo! Express train to Sexy Town coming up next! Bow chicka wow wow! Thanks to everyone who has taken the time out of their busy holiday schedules to drop me a line or three! It has been so awesome to chat with you all, and I am loving the energy you guys pour out over me. To me, your comments are like spinach to Popeye. Hang tight, folks! Sexy times are coming *wink, wink* soon! Big love, lots of kindness, and happy Tuesday to you all!***


	5. Karen Loses Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warning: UDS (unnecessarily detailed smut) ahead with some mild Dom/sub type power play. Everything is completely consensual, non-violent, and multi-orgasmic, but I just wanted to warn you. 
> 
> That being said, prepare yourselves for some beautiful, emotional smut. Hopefully, you will forgive me the delay in posting once you read this.***

If all their problems could be solved like this, Karen would be a very happy woman, indeed.

It wasn’t that Karen was trying to control Frank through sex, far from it. She was just trying to give them both what they each so desperately needed. Frank needed to feel like he was in control. It was only natural after he had lost his entire family, and that need would only get stronger the closer he got to her. Karen could see it happening already in his reaction to her choice of friends. She had been down the bad road of controlling boyfriends, and she would not travel it again. Frank had to understand that Karen made her own decisions, and he could either back her up, or he could back the fuck out.

Karen, however, needed to lose control, but she didn’t know how. She had been on her own from 18 years old, and there was no help forthcoming from her strict Catholic parents. They had disowned her the day they showed up at her college dorm unannounced and found her naked in bed with a black coed. That was the day that Karen found out that her parents were not only cold and unloving, but also racist and cruel. From that day forward, it had been Karen alone in the world, and she couldn’t remember what it felt like to have the safety net of someone’s love to fall back on. She had taken care of herself for so long that she feared dropping her guard to let anyone get too close. Until Frank.

Frank was strong enough to help shoulder the burden of her life. He had proved himself over and over again as a fearless protector, and he made her feel safe. She trusted him, and she knew that he was worthy of it. Unfortunately, Frank’s need to control her and her need to lose control had the potential to be disastrous for them both. She needed to be careful to ensure they each got what they needed from the other without Frank losing his way and Karen losing herself.

Sex was the perfect solution for them both. Frank could let loose the primal part of his soul on her body, and Karen could let go of the responsibility of caring for herself. Frank had proven himself more than capable of the task of making her come, so it was a no-brainer for her to let him. She reveled in the way his hands roamed her body with possessive admiration, and she got high on the punishing thrust of his cock deep into her body. Sex with Frank was more than just fucking to orgasm; it was therapy and Sunday Mass dipped in liquid sin and topped with a cherry. Who could say no to that?

Karen could feel the thump of her quick pulse against the calloused skin of Frank’s thumb tracing her jugular. His hold on her neck was snug, but gentle, and she didn’t feel threatened in the least. She was eager to hand him the reigns of her passion, because she knew that he wouldn’t drop them. She was just along for the ride.

He pulled her in close to his body, and he used his hold on her neck to guide their lips to within touching distance. “Have I told you today that your mouth drives me crazy?” Frank asked, his lips whispering over hers with frustrating tease.

Karen gasped the air from his lungs and replied breathlessly, “At least twice.”

“Goddammit, Page,” he growled with frustration before claiming her mouth with his own.

Karen surrendered to his onslaught, and opened herself to his passion. She clung to him as he held her captive to his kiss, and all she could think about was _more_. She wanted more of him to fill the jagged cracks in her heart, so she wouldn’t feel broken anymore. She needed him to take care of her, and Frank needed to take care of her.

He broke away from her lips to rest his forehead against hers as they each panted for breath. They were balanced together on the knife’s edge of something new and incredibly intimate, and Karen’s body was buzzing with adrenaline and nerves. A jolt of electric lust shocked her in motion when Frank said suddenly, “I want you on the bed, naked. Now.”

Without another word, Karen stepped out of his embrace, turned on her heel, and began walking back to her bedroom as she shed the remainder of her clothing along the way. Her jeans were abandoned by the bathroom door, her socks were left like breadcrumbs on the floor, and her panties were tossed in the vicinity of the hamper before she allowed herself to lay prostrate on her bed. She strained to listen for his heavy footfalls, but he didn’t make a noise as he appeared in the doorway to survey his handiwork. Everywhere his gaze touched her, she felt exposed and vulnerable, but she did not move to hide herself from him.

Somewhere along the way, Frank had lost his shirt, and he was dressed only in pair of well-worn jeans with the top button undone. He looked like the devil incarnate with his dark, tousled curls and cropped beard with just a touch of gray to add maturity to his roguish looks. His shoulders, arms, and chest were cut from granite with deep trenches marking the delineation of each muscle with tattoos and scars acting as window dressing. He carried himself with confidence and authority, and it made her weak with wanting him.

She waited with baited breath to see what he would say or do next, but he did not keep her waiting long. Without leaving his spot by the door, he said, “Open your legs, doll. I want to see everything.”

Her skin turned pink with her blush, but nevertheless, she lifted her legs in a V before slowly parting them until they were spread wide open. She could feel the petals of her lower lips swell and bloom with arousal before his eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to have him touch her, but he was in no hurry to end his reward. He walked on silent feet until he came to a stop at the foot of the bed, and he crooned, “Beautiful, doll, fucking beautiful. Now, I want you to touch yourself for me. Start with your breasts first.”

Karen opened her mouth to protest her embarrassment, but it only took one raised eyebrow from Frank to stop her. She swallowed down her trepidation and fear, and she ran her hands up the flat plane of her belly, over her ribs, and under the swells of her breasts until they overflowed each palm. Her nipples tightened with arousal, and her skin reacted as if it were Frank’s hands lifting and squeezing her breasts instead of herself. “Show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone, Karen,” he commanded, his voice hoarse, but unyielding. “I want to watch you as you make yourself come.”

“Frank, I-“ she began to protest, but the words died on her tongue when he crossed his arms over his wide chest and planted himself on the spot. He was making it very clear that he was the one calling the shots, and Karen had agreed to let him. With a shaky breath for courage, Karen braced her feet against the bed, and allowed her knees to fall apart. She closed her eyes, and began to pinch and roll her nipples between her thumb and finger before tugging and squeezing her breasts with a rougher touch. Her body responded to her tried-and-true methods, and a moan of pleasure vibrated in her throat as her hips arched each time she pinched a little too hard or squeezed a little too tight.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Frank’s deep rumble interrupted her ruthlessly. “Open your eyes and look at me. I told you, doll. I want to see everything.”

Karen’s eyes popped open, and she could feel her cheeks burning with flames of mortification, but she did as he ordered and focused on him as her right hand snaked down her abdomen toward her slick heat. Her fingernails combed through the short, downy blonde curls at the crown of her sex before sliding through the slick wetness of her pussy. She bit her lip to stifle the whimper of pleasure that shot through her belly as she grazed the pad of her fingertip across her clit, and Frank’s dark eyes watched her every move as if recording it to memory.

“I didn’t tell you to play, Karen. Show me how you touch yourself when no one is here to watch you,” Frank demanded, his voice hard and unflinching.

A tremor of desire made her tremble, and she felt more than naked in front of him. She felt stripped bare down to her soul, but his unwavering attention and control clothed her in garments of desire and longing. Her fingers moved faster, dipping inside her channel before retreating to swirl and press against her clit until the muscles in her abdomen tightened with coiling pleasure. Her free hand squeezed and tormented her breast until she could feel the string of ecstacy pulling taut between her breasts and pussy, and she panted and worked toward fulfilling his command.

Frank’s eyes were like sharp, obsidian gems that glinted with fever, but his expression was stoic and unmoved. The only visible proof that he was not as unaffected as he appeared was the flexed muscles in his thick arms and the large bulge hidden behind his zipper. Karen locked eyes with her tormentor and her hips lifted from the bed as she chased her climax up the steep hill toward release. The closer she got to coming for him, the braver she grew in fucking herself with her fingers until she arrived at the precipice where she froze for a timeless second to exclaim breathlessly, “Frank, I’m-“

Her vision faded to black, and she cried out as her body arched with the tension of her orgrasm crashing through her body. Her legs shook, her breaths stuttered between gasps, and her fingers slipped and slid through the aftermath of her coming. She forgot that Frank was watching her, forgot that she was supposed to be watching him, and concentrated only on the feeling of satisfaction ringing like a gong throughout her body. Her legs splayed open with obscene abandon, and she could feel a drop of sweat rolling down her temple to disappear into her hair.

She was pulled from her post-climax stupor when Frank gripped her wrist and freed her fingers from their snug haven inside her pussy and brought them to his lips. Her breath caught in her throat as he sucked her essence from her fingers with a hum of approval that made her stomach flip and turn inside of her. He was thorough in his cleansing until he finally released her from his grip, but not from his spell. “Goddamn, you taste like peach brandy. I could get drunk on your flavor.”

A hot flash swept over her, and her pussy throbbed a reminder that it needed filled by him. “Frank, please,” she whispered, holding her hand out to him in supplication.

Frank’s hands dropped to the waist of his jeans, and he pulled them, and his boxer briefs, down his legs with maddening slowness as Karen watched and waited for him impatiently. When he was as naked as she, he finally crawled into the bed between her spread-eagled legs until their bodies were lined up face-to-face and hip-to-hip. His cock lay hard and hot like a branding iron against her belly, and he gathered her wrists in one big hand to pin them over her head. His other hand cupped her cheek and he searched the depths of her eyes for the answer to a question he never spoke aloud.

Without another word between them, he used his thumb to push down on her chin, and she opened her mouth obediently for his kiss as he tilted his hips until the wide crown of his cock lined up with her entrance. This time, he flowed into her body like a slow-moving river of honey as his tongue and his cock took turns sinking inside of her before retreating with leisurely ownership. She felt every ridge and vein on his shaft massaging and stretching the walls of her channel, and she tasted maple syrup, coffee beans, and wintergreen on his tongue. Her fingers curled until her nails bit into her palms as she tried instinctively to free them in order to touch him, but his hold on her was firm.

Her legs were still free, though, and she hooked them around his calves to force him to move faster, but she only succeeded in making him stop. He pulled back to glower down at her, and rumbled, “You do that again, and I’ll stop for good, and you’ll get an ass busting instead.”

Karen shivered with anticipation, not fear, but she reluctantly allowed her legs to fall open once more. When he was satisfied with her acquiescence, his hips began to move and resumed his slow, torturous pace. Karen relaxed beneath him and let go of all the tension stringing her muscles tight, and Frank rewarded her by releasing her hands and increasing the tempo of his thrusts. “That’s it, doll,” he crooned in her ear. “Let go, and give in to me.”

She left her arms pulled up over her head, and her hips fell into easy rhythm with his. “Anything you want, Frank. Anything you need,” she assured him breathlessly.

He cursed, low and filthy, and he raised up on his knees. Karen almost cried out at the loss of his weight and heat, but she bit it back and reminded herself to _let go_. He hooked his elbows beneath both her knees and lifted her ass off the bed and began to drive into her pliant body with ringing claps of his hips against her ass. This was what she had been waiting for—the edge of pain that would ramp her pleasure even higher. Each strike of his cock against her womb sent sizzling jolts of awareness throughout her system until she was shook loose from her moorings and sent her hurtling headlong into orgasm that flashed behind her eyelids with technicolor lights. As if from a distance, she could hear herself wail and scream his name, but it seemed inconsequential in light of the blissful apocalypse occurring in her mind.

When the last wave of ecstasy crested and faded away, Karen remained floating above her body. She could still feel the impact of his hips, but the physical sensations were far away and muted. Instead, she was riveted by the sight of him towering over her with power and strength. She watched Frank as he fucked her into something new and beautiful like Haphaestus swinging his hammer to craft Aphrodite’s girdle. He was pure masculine perfection from skin to within, and she smiled because he belonged to her.

When Frank came deep inside her, she was able to experience him in all his glory for the first time. She saw the way his muscles seized into stark bas relief, she smelled the salt of his sweat mixed potently with the sandalwood of his cologne, and she heard him pant softly, _“Goddammit, Karen. What the fuck are you doing to me?”_

As if she were a ghost haunting her bedroom, she watched as Frank settled her gently on the bed before easing away from her with a whispered, _“I’ll be right back, doll. Don’t move.”_ Karen had no intention of disobeying him, but mostly because she couldn’t seem to remember how. She knew he would be back, so there was no point in worrying. Instead, she continued to float in her peaceful daze as she followed the sounds of his feet on the floor. She heard him enter the bathroom, take a piss, flush the toilet, and turn on the faucet. A few minutes later, she heard his footsteps return until he appeared by her side once more.

She didn’t flinch when she felt the moist heat of a washcloth bathing her sex, and she didn’t make a sound as he carefully maneuvered her body in his quest to clean her. When he was satisfied that she was dry and comfortable, he leaned in to gaze directly into her eyes. “Hey, gorgeous. You’re being uncharacteristically quiet for you. Talk to me.”

It took an effort of will for her blink and summon words to her throat, but she managed it. Her voice was raspy and slurred as she said, “Mmm...just following orders, sir. This is me not worrying or moving. I’m a woman of my word.”

Frank’s chuckle sounded relieved when he replied, “There’s that mouth I was talking about. You need anything, doll? You want some water or something?”

Karen tried really hard to think of something, anything, that she could possibly want at that moment, but only one thing came to mind. “I want to do that again as soon as possible.”

Frank’s bark of laughter jolted her closer to awareness, but she still hovered just out of reach. She felt the bed move beneath her as he leaned over to turn off the lamp before crawling into the bed next to her. His hands were firm, but careful, as he situated her body until her cheek rested against the bass echo of his heartbeat and her arm was draped across his waist. They lay there together in silence for a comfortable eternity of minutes that Karen spent in a cloud of contentment. She came back to herself slowly and gently like a feather drifting to the ground on a warm, spring day.

Her eyelashes fluttered against his chest as awareness rushed through her body, and her synapses all began to fire at once. Her nerve endings came on-line in concert, and she stretched and writhed against him as her muscles ached, her pussy throbbed, and her nipples chafed where they rubbed against him.

“As soon as possible may take a few days. I’m just sayin’,” she whispered loudly, breaking the bubble of silence that had enveloped them closer than the darkness.

Frank’s tensed muscles relaxed, and he laughed quietly as he rolled until they were facing each other. He reached up to cup her jaw in his palm, and his thumb traced the familiar path of her cheek. “Welcome back, doll. I was starting to think that I might have broken you.”

Karen turned into his hand and closed her eyes against the glare of honesty shining in his eyes. Even though her body was sore and she knew she would be feeling the effects for days, she was far from broken. She felt mended and patched, healed and renewed, by the touch of his skin and the sound of his voice. She wanted to be reminded of it every minute of every day, and he was generous in providing it.

“You can’t break me, Frank. You can only make me stronger,” she replied quietly. She paused for a weighted moment before she added, “We can make each other stronger. Not whole, and not unblemished, but stronger.”

Frank leaned in slowly and pressed a soft, clinging kiss to her lips before he pulled back enough to breathe, “I’m starting to believe you, doll. God help me, but I’m starting to believe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Y'all, I'm not gonna lie. This chapter about took it out of me. These characters challenge me to think in different ways and to try new things, but that don't mean that it's easy. This one took some time, but I hope you enjoyed it! Big love to everyone who has taken the time to comment and chat, and I look forward to talking to you again! Sending a special shout out and wave "hello!" to my dear friend, CowandCalf. She is my sister from another mister, and her H50 fics are amazeballs. Spread the love wherever you are in the world. We need it!**


	6. Frank's Friend is an Asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just a quick little chapter to set up the next action! Plus, I just really wanted to write David Lieberman. I loved his character, and I couldn't get enough of his interaction with Frank. What happens when two assholes decide to be friends? Keep reading, and you'll find out.**

Frank POV

 

At ten a.m. the next morning, Frank found himself on his way to a friend’s house after calling his foreman at the site to let him know he wouldn’t be at work that day. Considering the fact that the asshole owed him a favor, it had been surprisingly painless. Frank had to work his other job that day, and this one took precedence. There was a family-murdering piece of filth that needed to be put down, and no one else was better for the job than him.

Karen, being the conscientious employee that she was, woke at the ass-crack of dawn to shower, get dressed, and gather her things as if she had slept for ten hours instead of just three. He had ogled her from the bed as she’d dressed herself in a straight skirt, pink blouse, and sensible heels with efficient ease that spoke of long practice. When she’d been ready to leave, she had bent down to press a firm kiss to his lips and said, _“Let me know what your friend can dig up on the phone number. I’ll touch base with Jess after she wakes up around noon, and we’ll put it all together to see if we can track this guy down.”_

Without waiting for his agreement, she’d sashayed out the door without a backward glance.

Frank shook his head in familiar confusion, but there was still no answer to the riddle of Karen Page by the time he pulled into the driveway of a typical suburban home on the outskirts of NYC. His friend lived a solid forty-five-minute drive from the city, but it may as well have been six hours. All traces of flashing neon lights, towering buildings, and deafening noise of the big city had vanished. In their places were clean playgrounds, modern homes, and mini-vans parked in driveways. He used to find comfort and a measure of peace in such an environment, but now it felt like walking over his family’s graves. He did not want to linger for long in the suburbs.

With a sigh of resignation, Frank exited the car he’d borrowed from Curtis, and headed toward the front door. Without pause, he pounded on the door and waited. He didn’t have to wait long before the door swung open on a gust of chilly November air and he was greeted by the sight of David Lieberman, aka Micro. He was dressed in a pair of white tube socks, plaid boxer shorts, stained tee shirt, and a ratty robe that hung open like old curtains in a condemned theatre. His honey brown hair was snarled in a tangle of curls, and his beard was wiry, long, and uneven. It had been three long months since he had seen Lieberman last, and apparently, they hadn’t been good ones for him. Frank had seen hobos in better condition than the brilliant hacker.

“Frank!” David exclaimed, holding his arms wide as his coffee sloshed out of the mug in his right hand. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on the security camera!”

He moved to give Frank a hug, but the smell wafting off him made Frank stop him abruptly with a raised hand. “Jesus, Lieberman. You look like shit, and you don’t smell much better,” Frank greeted his friend bluntly.

David looked down at himself before lifting his arm to sniff loudly at his armpit. He made a disgusted face, but quickly shrugged it off before stepping aside to wave Frank in with a desperate laugh. “Same old Frank. Come in and have some coffee.”

He led the way toward the kitchen, and Frank followed him uneasily. Something was seriously off with the cocky asshole that had saved his life, and it became his mission to figure it out. “How are Sarah and the kids?” he asked, cutting right to the quick.

Lieberman’s laugh was humorless as he poured steaming coffee into both their cups. He handed the spare to Frank and replied cynically, “Oh, they’re doing great. Just fucking great. Zach got suspended for three days for starting a fight in the middle of the cafeteria, Leo only comes out of her bedroom to shower and eat, and Sarah leaves the house at 6 a.m. even though she doesn’t have to be at work until 8. It takes her twenty minutes to get there. But, hey, we’re all in therapy three times a week to debride our emotions until we bleed, so that’s progress, right?”

Frank winced at the bleak picture David painted of his family. It pained Frank that they were all struggling to find their way back to happiness. He was invested in the idea of David gaining back his family, because Frank knew the terrible reality of existing without his. It wasn’t just that, though. He had grown uncomfortably close to Sarah when she’d thought her husband was dead. She was a good woman with a lot of love to give, and it had been tempting to let her spend it on him. Spending time with Zach and Leo had eased some of the crippling grief that consumed him over the death of his children, and he felt compelled to protect them, too. Hell, even Lieberman himself had managed to hack his way past Frank’s firewalls, and he wanted them to be happy together. They were good people, and they deserved to find love and comfort with each other.

“What happened, man?” Frank asked, incredulous. “You had the prize right in the palm of your hand. You pulled off some superhero-level shit and defeated the enemy to get your family back. You did it all for them, but now that you have them, you’re letting them slip away again. What the fuck are you doing, Lieberman?”

David glowered at him and snapped, “I’ve done everything I could think of to do, but none of it is working! My wife can hardly look at me anymore, and my kids are traumatized, and I don’t know what to fucking do about any of it, okay?!”

Frank raked his gaze up and down over his friend’s appearance and retorted, “For starters, you could try showering and wearing real clothes. Look at you. You’re a fucking mess, you asshole.”

David collapsed in the chair across the table from Frank, and stared despondently down into his coffee cup. “What’s the point? I fucked up, Frank. My family doesn’t want me back, and they have made that abundantly clear over the past three months.”

Frank, never one for tact, replied bitingly, “Oh, boo-fucking-hoo. Poor Lieberman with his beautiful house, smoking hot wife, and great kids is feeling sorry for himself. I’m fucking disappointed in you. I came here today thinking I was going to see the tenacious asshole that took down a top-ranked CIA agent, but I got you, instead. Where’s your fucking balls at, man? I thought you said you was hung like a fucking moose. Maybe I should knock you the fuck out again. Seemed to help the last time you acted like this.”

He could see the dull flush of anger spreading beneath the unkept whiskers wreathing his friend’s face. A spark of temper ignited behind David’s eyes and the man came alive for the first time. “You know what? Fuck _you_ , Frank. Where were you with all this loving support for the past three months, huh? You haven’t been here for the daily shitstorm that is my life. No calls, no visits, no contact from you at all until you showed up at my door fifteen minutes ago. Actually, I bet the whole reason you’re here is that you need something from me, because it damn sure isn’t because you give a shit about me or my family.”

Frank’s lips split in a slow, satisfied smile. “There’s the pissy asshole I came here to see,” Frank said, his tone reeking of victory. “I was giving you space and time to fix your family without me being there to muddy the waters, you ungrateful prick. Instead, you’re sitting at home on a Friday morning in your underwear while your wife is out busting her balls to bring home a paycheck. I came here thinking I was going to recruit my buddy, Micro, for a dangerous op, but now I’m thinking I showed up at the wrong fucking house.”

David’s attention was caught, and Frank knew he had him. The expression on his friend’s face was torn between fury and the desire to know more about the op. “God, how did I forget that you were such a massive, egotistical dickhead? You have an answer for everything, don’t you? You think you know how to fix my life, then go ahead, asshole. I’m all ears.”

Frank didn’t hesitate as he replied, “For starters, you need to clean yourself up. No wonder Sarah runs for the hills every time she looks at you. You look like something an ally cat hacked up and left on the sidewalk. I’m not taking you back to Hell’s Kitchen with me with you looking like that. Have some fucking pride, Lieberman.”

David pulled his robe closed defensively, and snapped, “I don’t look like this all the time. It’s just been a bad week.”

Frank pushed his chair back and stood to his feet before walking to the coffee pot to refill his cup. “Keep telling yourself that, asshole. You want Sarah to look at you again, then you need to make it worth her time. Look at this.” Frank paused to run his knuckles down the neatly-trimmed length of his own beard. “You think this happens by accident? Hell, no. I take the time to make sure I look my best so she’ll want to do more than just look at me. You feel me?”

Frank knew he’d said the wrong thing when Lieberman’s eyes widened with surprise, and he blurted, “Who is she? Is it Karen Page? Is that where you’ve been for the past three months?”

Frank cursed for letting himself get thrown off track. He had planned to introduce the two of them later in the day, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dissect the situation with the bull-headed hacker. “Yes, it’s Karen. No, I haven’t been with her for the past three months. It’s more of a recent turn of events.”

Lieberman’s mercurial mood shifted again, and his haggard face was wreathed in delight. “She must be either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to take on the likes of you. I want to meet her.”

Frank scowled at him and replied darkly, “If you live long enough to make it back to the city with me, you can meet her today. We have a job to do, and we could use your help. You in, or are you going to keep wallowing in your sad, pathetic pity party?”

David stood to his feet, and pushed the chair back under the table. “I hate you so much, Frank. Give me twenty minutes to take a shower and get dressed. What do I tell Sarah and the kids? How long am I going to be gone?”

Frank took a sip of the scalding nectar of life before he answered, “You tell your wife that you’re going to the city to visit Pete for the night, but that when you get back tomorrow, things are going to change. You tell her that you’re going to get a job, a haircut, and a set of balls, and then you’re going to quit talking and take some fucking action. I got all kinds of suggestions for you, my friend, and I’ll be happy to share them on the ride back to New York.”

David snorted derisively as he headed toward the stairs that led up to his bedroom. “Yeah, I’ll just bet you do, Frank. It’s a good thing we’ve got some time, because I have some questions for you about Karen Page, and you can’t run away from them while driving up the interstate at 75 miles per hour.”

Frank’s mind cringed at the thought of having to explain his relationship with Karen to Lieberman, especially since he couldn’t even explain it to himself. He couldn’t put a label on how she made him feel, because he’d never experienced this mix of emotion before. She was something new and altogether different than any other woman he’d known in his life, and he was bewildered by the intensity of his reaction to her. How could he possibly explain it to Lieberman when he didn’t understand it himself?

“Yeah, whatever, asshole,” Frank called after him as David disappeared from his view. “Just put on some decent fucking clothes. I’m taking to you to see my barber in Hell’s Kitchen first. You’re not meeting her looking like a fucking yeti.”

The slam of the bathroom door was the only answer he received, but Frank was far from discouraged. There was still some fight left in his friend, and if anyone could stoke the flames, it was Frank. He would get his friend back on track, and hunt down a monster all in one fell swoop. It was going to be a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just wanted to drop a quick chapter on you guys to let you know I'm hard at work! I've got three days off, and I plan to spend as much of it as possible at this keyboard. Unfortunately, the Christmas decorations won't put themselves up, the dishes won't wash themselves, and food won't be cooked on its own, but when I'm not doing that stuff, I will totally be chained to the desk in my dark, chilly garage where the cats and kids dare not go, and I write my beautiful smut to share with you guys. Hope your weekend is as relaxing and boring as mine plans to be. Drama is best experienced in fantasy instead of reality! Big love and I'll see you again soon!**


	7. Karen is an Asshole Wrangler Extraordinaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***What happens when Karen decides to be friends with three assholes? Read next to find out.***

It was well past lunch time before Karen heard from Frank. She had tried calling Jessica several times, but got no answer, so it was a relief when her phone pinged with an incoming text from him.

Frank: _Got my guy ready, and we’re having a bite on W 47 th street. He needs a place to use a computer. Suggestions?_

Karen’s heart began to pound with excitement. She had been waiting all morning for her sources to get their shit together, and now the investigation could begin in earnest. The only missing piece of the puzzle was with Jessica, so they would just have to go to her.

Karen: _Let’s meet in one hour at Jessica’s place. You can Google her address by searching for Alias Investigations. Can’t wait to meet the man crazy enough to be your friend._

Karen snorted softly when his reply came winging back seconds later.

Frank: _Funny. Micro said the same thing about you. I’ll see you in one hour, doll._

Karen grinned like an idiot, and rushed back to her office to pack up her laptop and grab her purse. She flew past Ellison’s office and called out, “Got to go! Following up a HUGE lead!” and kept on walking with purpose in her step toward the elevator.

Her editor, well-used to this behavior out of her by now, yelled his usual warning after her, “Keep me in the loop, Page!”

As she descended to street level, she debated the fastest way to reach Jessica first. It was imperative that she prepare her mercurial friend to receive visitors before the two men showed up on her doorstep. She didn’t want Frank’s friend to get a negative impression of her because Jess was hungover and cranky. She needed this experiment to work out well for all of them, and she was determined to make them all one big dysfunctional family. Karen was tired of being alone in the world, and she was going to create her own network of support whether they liked it or not.

Unfortunately, traffic in New York City on a Friday afternoon was pure hell. Even if she shelled out the money for a taxi, it would still take her forty-five minutes to get to Jess’s apartment twenty blocks away. She didn’t have a choice, though, so she offered her cabbie a $50 bonus if he could get her there faster. Her bribed worked, and half an hour later, she handed over half her grocery budget for the week to the happy taxi driver.

Smoke flew from the soles of Karen’s sensible heels as she raced up the steps to Jessica’s apartment. She reached the door at the end of the hall with the reinforced glass window that stated simply, _Alias Investigations_. With the flat of her hand, Karen pounded on the thick window before shouting, “Jessica! Wake up! I’ve been trying to call you for hours!”

She could hear the sounds of someone stumbling and cursing from within the apartment, but Karen did not relent with the pounding until the door swung open to reveal Jessica Jones in all her superhero glory. She was wearing a pair of Christmas socks, black tank top, and a pair of novelty panties that read “I DARE YOU” in red glitter. Her brunette hair was a wild tangle, and one side stuck up at an awkward angle as if a mama cat had tried and failed to groom her. Her bloodshot eyes were squinted against the dull, flickering light of the hallway, and she reeked of cheap booze and vomit.

“God, Jess, you look like shit, and you don’t smell much better,” Karen snapped testily as she pushed her way inside.

Jessica shushed her loudly as she eased the door closed behind them. “Why are you here, and why are you yelling at me first thing in the morning? I didn’t sign up for this shit, K.”

Karen looked around the small room that acted as the business office and made note of what she needed to clean up before the two men arrived. She’d only made a cursory glance, but she counted no less than four empty liquor bottles, three empty pizza boxes, and a half-full container of Chinese food with a fat fruit fly buzzing around his treasure. She turned back to Jessica and surveyed her with the same critical eye. This would not do. This would not do at all.

“Oh, yes, you fucking did!” Karen clapped back. “You signed up for it last night when you offered your services to help your _friend_. Frank and his contact will be here in less than 30 minutes to begin the investigation, and you are not going to greet them looking that that. It’s after four in the afternoon, for God’s sake. Take a shower and put on some clean clothes. You look like tavern trash that’s been rode hard and put up wet.”

Jessica stood there in her ridiculous panties and glared daggers at her. “I almost just hit you. I almost just lost control, and hit you.”

Karen rolled her eyes and made shooing motions toward the bathroom. “Did you miss the part where I said 30 minutes? Get your ass in gear, and brush your teeth, too. Your breath could be used for chemical warfare.”

With one last poisonous glare, Jessica turned and trudged toward the bathroom. “I hate you, and I want to break up. I don’t want to be friends anymore,” she called over her shoulder.

Karen was already searching the cabinets in the tiny kitchen for a garbage bag. She triumphantly pulled loose a white plastic bag, and replied distractedly, “Yes, you do. You love me, so you’re going to play nice with Frank and his friend for my sake. Chop, chop!”

The slam of the bathroom door was the only reply she received, but Karen wasn’t worried. Once Jessica Jones sank her teeth into a mystery, there was no stopping her. Her friend needed the distraction of an interesting case to pull her away from the bottle, and to sharpen her focus on using her talents for good. Connie’s dilemma was the best possible solution at hand for accomplishing that goal, and Karen was not going to let Jessica sabotage this chance to get her life together.

As Karen rushed around to cram trash into a bag and straightened up the piles of paperwork on her desk, she could hear Jessica moving from the shower to her bedroom. She could only hope that Jessica had some clean clothes to wear, and she made a mental note to have a firm conversation with her friend about personal hygiene and priorities.

By the time a heavy knock echoed through the small apartment, Jessica was fully dressed and scowling down into a mug of black coffee that Karen had brewed while she showered. She had refused to allow Jessica to add a little “hair of the dog” to her cup, and had handed her two aspirin instead. Jessica needed a clear head for the upcoming chase, and Karen could only hope that the bitchy private eye would behave herself until it was over.

Without waiting for permission, Karen swung the door open to reveal Frank. Her lips split into an instantaneous smile of happiness, and she waved him inside eagerly. She thought her heart would leap out of her chest when Frank casually leaned in to give her a kiss before greeting her, “How was your day, doll? Everything good?”

Karen nodded enthusiastically and replied lightly, “Of course! Jessica and I are ready to get to down to business. Introduce us to your friend.”

Frank released her from his one-armed hold, and glanced at the quiet, sulky man standing behind him. “This asshole? That’s David Lieberman, but his neckbeard friends on the dark web call him ‘Micro.’”

David Lieberman was a very handsome man. His honey brown hair was cut short, but not so short that you couldn’t see the natural curl of his locks. His beard was trimmed close to his face, remarkably like Frank’s, and his pale blue eyes cast a light over the rest of his features. He seemed like an odd choice of friend for Frank. Karen didn’t get the sense that David was ex-military, but there was a tangible bond of brotherhood between the two men, even though there was also clearly animosity between them.

David stuck out his hand, and Karen shook it warmly. He said drily, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Karen. I’m sorry you got stuck with this asshole like I did.”

Karen laughed and ushered them into the room before closing the door. “Same goes for you, David.” She paused to indicate Jessica, who was glaring dolefully at all of them, and added, “This is my friend, Jessica Jones. She’s a private detective, and a damn good one at that. She’s going to help us track down the man that killed those innocent people.”

David’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he eagerly offered his hand to her for a shake. “Holy shit! You’re _the_ Jessica Jones! Frank didn’t tell me we would be working with one of the infamous Defenders of New York City! My contacts in Rising Tide will never believe that I got to meet the woman that helped defeat The Hand.”

“Surprise,” Frank quipped with dripping sarcasm.

Jessica stared down at David’s hand for an awkward moment before she replied, “I’m sure the pleasure is all yours.” Without shaking his hand, she turned to Karen, and said, “Can we get this show on the road? I have actual paying clients I could be working for right now.”

“No, you don’t,” Karen retorted sharply. “You closed all your active cases last week. I saw the files open on your laptop, so you’re just being bitchy. Shake the man’s hand, and give him your WIFI password.”

Jessica looked completely unenthused as she shook David’s hand with unnecessary force until the poor guy yelped with pain. She released him with a mocking smile, and waved her arm with a flourish toward her now empty desk. “She’s all yours, Dave. My password is BigDick6969 with a big B and a really big D.”

David Lieberman edged his way past her with anxious caution to set his laptop case on the desktop. As he and Jessica traded stilted conversation over the laptop, Karen sighed heavily and turned to Frank. “Think they’ll be okay if we leave them unsupervised for a few hours?” she asked doubtfully.

Frank’s black eyebrow winged up his forehead, and he frowned in thought. “Lieberman’s a smart guy. He’ll figure out how to survive.” Raising his voice to carry to their friends, Frank barked, “Hey, you two work together on that phone number and address we gave you. See if you can come up with some names and history on the people that were killed there. Me and Karen are going to go chat with Connie’s client that’s trying to play innocent and see if we can shake a name loose on the shooter. Call or text as soon as you find us a lead.”

Karen closed her eyes and rubbed her eyebrow to brace herself for what she knew would be coming next. As if on cue, Jessica snapped a sharp salute, and chirped, “Sir, yes, sir!”

David glanced up from his laptop to where Jessica was sitting on the desk next to him and said sharply, “Don’t do that. Don’t mock what you don’t understand. That man is a soldier, and he is damn good at it. He’s earned the right to give orders, and I trust his judgement. I don’t know shit about you, lady, but I know him, and he deserves your respect. So, respectfully, back the fuck off.”

“Day-um,” Karen breathed with awe. “That was savage.”

Frank, sounding entirely too pleased with himself, teased, “Lieberman, I’m touched. I didn’t know you cared. Is this what they call ‘a precious moment’? I’ll give you a bro hug, but I draw the line at kissing that ugly mug.”

“Go fuck yourself, Frank. You’re still a dickhead, and I hate this haircut, because now I look like one, too,” David retorted angrily, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“He’s right,” Jessica chimed in with perfect timing. “That haircut makes him look like a dickhead.” To Lieberman, she added, “Don’t worry. Your wife will love it.”

Karen could feel her fragile dream of building a family with these people begin to tremble at its foundations, but she refused to give up. “Everyone, take a breath. Can we all focus on the task at hand, please? Everyone needs to put their egos aside and work together, or more people could die. We can find the one responsible, and bring that family a measure of justice, but it won’t happen if we don’t get our shit together. Can we all agree on at least that much?”

David Lieberman nodded his head, shame-faced, and even Jessica had the good grace to drop eye contact. Frank cleared his throat loudly, and said gruffly, “Right. We’ll just head out, and let you two get to work. Try not to kill each other in the process.”

As Karen and Frank headed to the door arm-in-arm, she heard Jessica say to David, “While Mom and Dad are away, the kids will play, right, Dave? Let’s see if we can get into some trouble while they’re gone. I’m bored.”

Karen shut the door behind them to cut off David’s reply, and fell into step next to Frank. “This will be fine. This is going to work out great. I can feel it,” Karen tried to convince them both.

Frank punched the button to summon the elevator, and replied sardonically, “Keep telling yourself that, doll. I love to say ‘I told you so.’”

As they made their way outside into the frigid temperatures of the evening, Frank asked suddenly, “You packing?”

Karen patted the gun-shaped bulge in her purse confidently with a gloved hand, and replied, “Always. You?”

Frank made a rude noise and retorted, “What do you think?”

Karen threw her hand in the air to flag down a taxi and replied, “I think we’re ready to go hunting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Okay, friends, the action is ramping up, and shit is about to go down! I'm having a great time writing for these characters, and in fact, I have to reign them in because they all demand equal screen time. Give me a shout out to let me know what you liked or didn't like, and I'll become a better writer for it. I'll be back with more soon, because I still have another day and half of holidays! Woo hoo! Suck it, everything outside my house! I'm staying inside where it's warm and I don't have to socialize! Lol! I'll be back soon with the next installment. Have a HAPPY NEW YEAR, friends! May the Year of the Dog be a very good boy, indeed.**


	8. Frank is El Castigador

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Special note to my Spanish-speaking friends: please feel free to correct me gently on anything I got wrong translating your beautiful language. I adore Spanish, and it tends to pop in my stories frequently. I took it in school for four years and a semester in college, so I know just enough to be embarrassing.**

Frank POV

 

An hour later, Frank and Karen paused outside the back entrance of a popular nightclub in Manhattan. According to Connie, her contact was the owner and operator of _Bailamos_ , a man named Jaime Olivera. Frank had to promise certain things to Connie before she would divulge his name, but in the end, she had reluctantly told them where to find him.

It wasn’t quite late enough in the day for the club to be open, but Connie had assured him that Olivera would be in his office preparing for a busy Friday night. Of course, Frank wasn’t expecting to be able to just waltz into the place armed to the teeth, so he and Karen had made their way through the alleys to approach from the back. There were certain to be other staff members inside, and some of them were almost certain to be armed.

“You ready for this, doll?” Frank asked, his tone heavy with warning.

Karen rolled her eyes, and lifted her small fist to bang on the door before she replied drily, “Yep. I’m ready.”

“Would it kill you to follow my lead once in a while?” he asked rhetorically as the sounds of a lock being turned filled the alley. “Let me do the talking.”

Karen nodded her head politely as the door swung open to reveal a big black man wearing a skin-tight black tee shirt that announced SECURITY across his massive chest in white block lettering. He gave them both a dismissive glance, and said roughly, “Doors don’t open for three more hours. Go wait in front.”

He started to shut the door again, but Frank’s hold on it prevented it from closing. He pried the door out of the man’s grip, and stepped into his personal space to snarl, “We ain’t here for dancing, asshole. I want to speak to Olivera. We have business to discuss.”

The big man swelled even bigger before Frank’s eyes, and he could feel the familiar excitement for impending battle singing through his blood. He sized up the competition, and found the man to be a worthy opponent. It would be more than a fair fight, but Frank was positive he could take him.

“I suggest you back up, motherfucker, before you find yourself on the business end of my fist,” the big man rumbled, his posture threatening and ready for action.

Before Frank could take care of business, though, Karen’s voice cut into the tension between them. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt--whatever this is--but we really are pressed for time.” She paused to retrieve a business card from her purse, and handed it over to the stunned bouncer. “Please give this card to Mr. Olivera, and I guarantee that he will see us.”

The big man looked down at the small card dwarfed in his massive fist. “This is just a picture of Consuela the Maid from _Family Guy_ , and a phone number.”

“Mm-hmm,” Karen confirmed. “He knows what it means. Tell him we aren’t looking for trouble. Just information.”

Frank thought there was no way in hell it would work, but he was wrong. The big guy looked at her suspiciously, but replied roughly, “Fine, I’ll take it to him, but you two are waiting here.” Without waiting for a reply, he slammed the heavy metal door in their faces.

Frank looked at Karen with new appreciation, and asked, “Where did you get that card? I’ve known Connie for three months, and she’s never given me one.”

Karen straightened the loop on her thick wool scarf, and replied nonchalantly, “I found it when I was cleaning off Jessica’s desk. I figured it might come in handy. Besides, I’ve already stored the number in my phone.”

Frank shook his head and smirked. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

Karen flashed him a cheeky grin, and retorted, “That’s what you keep telling me.”

The door swung open abruptly, and the big guy waved them in with reluctance. “Boss Man says he’s got ten minutes. After that, I get to do my job.”

Karen nodded her understanding, and Frank grunted as they fell into step behind the burly, thickly-muscled man. They followed him through several hallways and up a short flight of steps until he brought them to a halt outside a closed door. He stood in front of the door and crossed his massive arms across his chest and regarded them through narrowed eyes. “No weapons beyond this door. You can leave them on this table,” he tilted his head to indicate a decorative side-table, “And you can have them back when you leave. Take ‘em off yourselves, or I’ll do it for you.”

Frank’s muscles tensed for a confrontation, but Karen immediately placed her purse on the table. “I have a gun in my purse that I carry legally for my protection. That’s the only weapon on me.” Her hands dug around in her coat pockets, and she pulled out her gloves and cell phone. “See? We just want to talk.”

The bouncer eyed her carefully, but he nodded his agreement. “I believe you, lady, but your friend there has at least two pieces and a few knives stashed on him. I can’t let him go in there with you like that. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I did.”

Frank bristled under Karen’s gimlet stare, and her expression challenged him to fall in line behind her command. Part of him resisted the idea of letting her take lead on a dangerous op, especially one that called for him to go in unarmed, but the logical soldier inside him had to admit that she was doing a damn good job so far. She had earned his trust in the midst of battle several times, and he knew that she was capable of fighting smarter, not harder. He’d followed the commands of men without honor, so to deny her the same would be a gross insult, and she was worthy of so much more.

Frank held his hands to his sides and addressed the big man, “Hey, I get it. I’m just trying to do my job, too, by protecting her. New York is a dangerous place, you know?”

The big man nodded his head, but his severe expression didn’t ease. “You ain’t telling me shit I don’t know, man. I grew up in Harlem. You still have to leave your weapons, though, or you and me are going to have a problem.”

Frank shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to Karen to place on the table next to her purse. He began unfastening his shoulder holsters as he replied sarcastically, “Keep your tight shirt on, buddy. It’s going to take me a minute.”

As Frank stripped himself of weapons and laid them on the table, Karen chatted pleasantly with the intimidating giant. “You’re from Harlem? I have a friend that lives there with her boyfriend. Her name is Claire Temple, and she’s a nurse.”

Frank rolled his eyes as the big man grew animated for the first time. “Man, you’re friends with Luke Cage’s woman?”

Karen replied eagerly, “Yes! Do you know them, too?”

The big guy sighed heavily and admitted ruefully, “Not in person. Everybody in Harlem knows all about Luke Cage. He’s a bullet-proof black man walking the streets without fear. The man is a fucking legend in my neighborhood.”

Frank, having divested himself of three guns and four knives, took Karen’s elbow firmly, and said, “You two can fangirl over Cage some other time. The clock is ticking.”

The bouncer shot him a dirty look that Frank sent back with a raised eyebrow. Without another word, the big guy turned the handle on the door and swung it open. He stepped back to let them enter, and as Frank walked past him, he growled, “Now, you got five minutes. One second longer, and I get to do my job. And, I fucking _love_ to do my job.”

Frank didn’t reply with anything other than a satisfied smile as he shut the door behind them to cut the big man off from his target. Karen didn’t hesitate as she strode across the lushly-appointed office to approach the middle-aged Latino man sitting stiffly behind a desk. Frank couldn’t see his hands, and that set alarm bells ringing in his ears.

“Karen, stop,” Frank’s voice sliced through the room with command.

As if he had pressed the pause button, Karen froze in mid-stride. Slowly, without being told, Karen raised her palms in the air, and even though they were shaking, she said carefully, “Mr. Olivera, my name is Karen Page, and I work for the _New York Bulletin_. We just want to ask you some questions. We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Says you, doll. If he doesn’t quit pointing that gun beneath his desk at you, I’m going to fucking kill him,” Frank promised, his tone dripping with death.

“Who gave you this card? Where did you get it?” Jaime asked, his one visible hand trembling where he clutched Connie’s card.

Frank snarled when Karen flinched before replying quickly, “We got it from Connie! She’s our friend, and she’s asked us to look into the murders of the Asian family that she was contracted to clean up. We’re hoping you can help us figure out what happened to them, and bring the perpetrator to justice.”

Frank began the countdown in his head. Olivera had exactly five seconds to quit pointing that gun at her, or he was going to be a dead man.

 _Five..._ Olivera hesitated as he weighed the sincerity of her plea. _Four..._ The sound of a gun safety engaging echoed in the room. _Three..._ Olivera pulled his hand out from under the desk. _Two..._ And placed his gun on the surface within easy reach. _One..._ He placed his hand within sight six inches from the gun.

That was just enough to save his life. For now.

“Connie sent you here? I knew she didn’t believe me. For a minute there, I thought you worked for...,” he trailed off without finishing his sentence.

Pieces of the puzzle fell into place in Frank’s mind, and he said, “You thought we worked for the man you gave your own card to before he butchered an entire family. Two of them were children, you piece of shit.”

This time, it was Olivera that flinched. “I know! I know, okay? Don’t you think that keeps me up at nights?” he exclaimed before hiding his face in his hand. “I didn’t know...he didn’t tell me...I thought I was helping him clean up a mistake, not this.”

Frank’s body was coiled for action, but Karen lifted her fingers in a staying motion as she crept closer to the desk and eased her way into the chair sitting in front of it. As if it were only the two of them in the room, Karen consoled him, “Jaime, we can help you. If the man that killed those people is threatening you, we can protect you. Just give us his name, and we’ll do the rest.”

As she spoke, Frank eased closer to the desk until he was within grabbing distance of Karen. Jaime rubbed his eyes wearily with his thumb and forefinger, and his tone was defeated when he replied, “You don’t understand, Miss Page. It’s not just the man who pulled the trigger that has me scared. It’s the man he works for that scares me.”

Frank and Karen exchanged surprised looks before Frank demanded, “We need names, Olivera. Start talking.”

Jaime glared at him, and spat, “I’m not telling you shit. I’m more afraid of them than I am of you. If I open my mouth, I’m as dead as that poor family.”

Without breaking eye contact with Olivera, Frank raised a hand to forestall Karen’s objection. “I want you to take a real good look at me. Imagine this face without a beard, and visualize what I would look like with a military buzz cut. Now, I know you don’t me, but I’ve gone by a lot of different names over the years. One of my favorites is what Connie calls me-- _El Castigador._ ”

Olivera’s dark complexion paled, and beads of sweat began popping out on his forehead. “You! They said you were dead. I’d hoped you were dead. I lost cousins _en tu vengaza de la muerte_ , _pendejo_.”

Frank’s smile was grim as he replied, “Good. You know what I’m capable of. I can either vent my death vendetta for that family on you, or I can direct it at the ones responsible. Your choice.”

“Frank!” Karen hissed, shooting him a warning glance. Turning back to Olivera, she said gently, “Just point us in the right direction, Jaime. We’ll make sure the right people are brought to justice.”

Jaime Olivera slumped in his chair and sighed miserably. “What choice do I have? If _El Castigador_ doesn’t kill me, he will if I tell you his name. At least this way, I might be able to buy enough time to take an impromptu trip to Guadalajara to visit _mi abuela_.”

Karen’s shoulders drooped as the tension poured off her like water. Frank didn’t relax his guard, though. Not while that gun was sitting inches away from Olivera’s hand. Karen leaned closer to him and said encouragingly, “That sounds like an excellent plan, Jaime. In fact, you should leave right behind us until the matter is resolved.”

Jaime snorted, and reached for the decanter of clear liquid on the corner of his desk. He pulled the stopper, took a deep drink, and grimaced as he replaced the lid. “You make an excellent point, Miss Page. Actually, you should follow your own advice. After I tell you who I gave Connie’s card to, you may want to hop on the plane and go with me.”

Frank was so done with this asshole. “Enough with the dramatics, and just spill it. Who pulled the trigger?”

Olivera couldn’t meet Frank’s eyes as he replied quietly, “I passed Connie’s card along to an old college buddy from NYU. His name is Bryson Masters, and he runs a private security detail.”

Karen liberated her notepad and pen from the depths of her coat, and began writing furiously. Frank didn’t need to write it down. He already had his name committed to memory and marked for death. “Let me guess. It’s the guy he works for that needed something cleaned up. Who does Masters work for, Olivera?”

Jaime lifted his bloodshot eyes to meet Frank’s gaze, and his words fell like a hammer of doom. “Bryson is head of security for New York Senator Martin Gilliam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DUM DUM DUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMM! Oh, no! Whatever will they do? Kick some ass, that's what! Yeah! Thanks to everyone who joined the Cool Kids Club by leaving kudos and taking the time to drop a line or two. You guys rock my socks my off! I'll be back soon with the next chapter, but first, I need to reacquaint my ass with my easy chair. Peace and love, y'all!**


	9. BONUS CHAPTER: Jessica Jones Makes a New Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Okay, gang. I woke up at 2 am in the morning, and I had this idea. Here's a little bonus chapter for you guys so you can see what happened in Jessica's office after Frank and Karen left. Told from Jessica's POV. Hope you get a kick out of it, because I had a blast writing it!**

“Tell me, Liebowitz, what exactly are your friend’s intentions with Karen?” Jessica Jones asked thirty seconds after Frank and Karen left her office.

David Lieberman reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the code he was typing on his laptop. “What?” he asked, his forehead wrinkled with confusion.

Jessica sighed heavily, and repeated with slower, more insulting emphasis. “What-does-Frank-want-with-Karen?”

David blinked his clear blue eyes owlishly before he shuttered them with caution. He turned back to his laptop, and his fingers flew across the keys like wind. “I’m not discussing Frank with you. I barely know you.” He paused for a split second before he added distractedly, “And, my name is Lieberman, not Liebowitz.”

Jessica watched him closely, and rethought her approach. It was becoming more and more apparent to her that David Lieberman was not the meek Jewish computer nerd she had first pegged him. Dave, it seemed, had a loyal backbone, and that would it make it more difficult for her to find out what she wanted to know. Karen’s current investigation didn’t interest her, but the mystery of Frank Castle’s involvement in her friend’s life absolutely interested her. Karen wasn’t like Jessica—she was still soft and mushy and easily hurt. Jessica would be damned if she was going to allow The Fucking Punisher of all people to date her friend without knowing exactly how he felt about her.

“Damn it!” David growled before pushing away from his laptop. “I knew the phone number would be a dead end. The only information I found on it was that it was a burner phone purchased in cash at a bodega two hours before it made one out-going phone call to Connie’s number. There’s no other calls or texts, and it isn’t pinging off any towers.”

“Of course not,” Jessica snorted. “He probably tossed it. This guy didn’t sound like an amateur to me, but even the smartest of criminals always make a mistake.” Jessica leaned over his shoulder, ignoring the way he shrank from her, and said, “Can you trace the cell tower closest to where he placed the call?”

David shot her an annoyed glance, and pointedly moved his chair away from her looming presence. “Yes, but why would I? We already know the address where the murders happened, so we should we focus our efforts on the apartment. I can pull the records for-“

Jessica held her hand up to stop him. “Which one of us in this room is a licensed private investigator?” She raised her hand up higher and searched the room for other raised hands, but saw none. “Yep, just me. I say we will find out more through the phone number than at that apartment.”

David sat back in his chair and laughed incredulously. “Oh, this should be fucking rich. Please, Magnum, P.I., please tell me how your Cracker Jack license makes you smarter than an NSA computer analyst and master hacker at gathering information.”

Jessica’s lips curled into a Cheshire smile. Her investigation was about to bear fruit.

“I’ll make a bet with you, Liberbaum. I bet that if you pull those records on that building, you will hit a dead end. I also bet that I’m right in thinking that _where_ the shooter placed that call is what will give us our lead,” Jessica taunted him ruthlessly.

David’s cheeks began to pinken with temper, and he replied icily, “Seems like a safe bet considering the chatter about you on the dark web. Hundreds of reports are logged on you each night by people who cross your path or know someone who has. You know what they all have in common?”

Jessica’s stomach turned to ice at the thought of her every move being watched by anonymous faces. It was a horror she had experienced before with Kilgrave. Could he still be behind all the watchful eyes reporting her every move?

“What do they all have in common?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

His sneer faded, and his cocky attitude dimmed. His tone was more moderate as he replied, “They all say that you’re a raging alcoholic, but you never lash out in anger with your fists unless provoked. They say that you close the bars down, but always leave alone. They say that you defend the innocent, even though you’d rather not get involved. They all say that you will drink yourself to death in less than a year.”

Jessica blinked rapidly to prevent the shocked tears from blooming in her eyes. She’d thought she knew what he was going to say, but she had been so very wrong. She was expecting a detailed account of how she spent her days, but not... _this_. This wasn’t Kilgrave controlling people to spy on her against their will. It was so much worse. The people watching her and reporting about her were doing it for entertainment. Her life was nothing more than a celebrity siting in a gossip column for the whole world to read. She felt naked and vulnerable, and that pissed her off. She would not be reduced to someone else’s victim again.

As if he had never spoken, Jessica said, “If I’m wrong, and you’re right, what do you win?”

David watched her warily, but she could see his gigantic nerd brain working overtime. “Okay, I’ll play. If I’m right and you’re wrong, you have to come to my house for dinner Sunday night with my family, and you have to be sober and polite.” He paused to enjoy her dropped jaw before adding, “And, you have to call me by my real name. You can address me as David, Lieberman, or Micro. That’s it. Those are your only choices.”

Jessica was intrigued by his request, and that pissed her off, too. Showing interest in other people and their lives would lead to unnecessary responsibility, and she was not down for that. However, there was no point in wondering why the cocky asshole wanted her to have dinner with his family, because she was going to win this bet.

“You don’t ask for much, do you?” she replied, sarcastically. “Fine, I agree to your terms, Lieberstein.” She waited for the insult to register before she continued, “Now, for my terms. When you hit a dead end at the apartment, and I strike it rich with the phone number, you’re going to tell me everything you know about Frank Castle. Special emphasis on what he’s said to you about Karen Page.”

David barked a laugh, and exclaimed, “Wow, you never quit. I already told you that I’m not going to talk about Frank with you. Pick something else.”

Jessica inspected her nails with apparent disinterest, and said, “Are you afraid that I might actually win? How would that make you feel, Lebowski? I mean, I thought you said it would be a safe bet since I’m an alcoholic mess and you’re a brilliant CSI guy. That’s cool, man. I wouldn’t bet against me, either.”

David took the bait hook, line, and sinker. “You know what? I’ll take that bet, because there’s no way in hell that I can lose against you,” he sneered, stupidly offering his hand for another shake.

Jessica could be magnanimous in victory, though, so she only squeezed hard enough to make him flinch. “Deal. I’ll even let you go first. Get to work on that address, Hacker Man.”

David spun the chair back to the computer, and began to type furiously as he muttered, “As if I would be afraid of you. Afraid you might puke your hangover all over my lap, maybe. CSI? Seriously, lady? I worked for The National Security Agency with unlimited access to their considerable resources. Do I look like David Caruso wearing sunglasses in Miami to you? And, come on, Lebowski? You aren’t even trying anymore...” his voice droned on and on and on and on....

Jessica jolted awake several minutes later when David cursed loudly, and shoved away from the keyboard. “Damn it! The building is government housing owned by a realty company that’s owned by another realty company that’s owned by a shell corporation and I could go on and on. It’s going to take me hours to sort through all this data to find a common thread. On top of that, there’s no record of there being any tenants in that apartment at the time of the murders.”

Jessica stood to her feet and stretched her arms over her head as she walked to the kitchen. “I’m going to grab a donut while you trace the tower that picked up the killer’s phone call. You want one? I think I have a blueberry cake one left.”

His fingertips struck the keys with audible savagery as he did what he was told, and Jessica waited patiently for her reward. By the time she returned his side with a half-eaten blueberry cake donut, David had the information up on his computer. She squinted at the blinking lights glowing on a digital map of New York City, and tried to make sense of it.

“This is the shittiest map I’ve ever seen,” she told him bluntly as pastry crumbs showered his shoulder. “Can you pull up a real map and show me where the tower is located?”

David sighed with frustration, but he nonetheless tapped at the keys until a virtual street map of Manhattan filled the screen. Another few taps of the keys added a marker where the tower was located. “There, you satisfied? The burner phone picked up this tower, and it’s the closest one to our crime scene. Neither one of us won.”

Jessica studied the map critically before she said, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lindenberg. Our shooter is a professional, and they don’t stick around waiting to be discovered. Can you illustrate the approximate range of the cell phone tower on the map?”

David shot her a peeved look before tapping again, and a translucent circle lit up the map with the tower at the bull’s eye. She studied the surrounding buildings carefully before she saw it. “There,” she announced triumphantly, tapping a sticky finger against the screen. “That’s where our shooter placed the call.”

David looked at the screen, up at Jessica, and back to the screen. “Why do you think that?”

Jessica shrugged and finished off her donut before answering with a shower of crumbs, “Because I’m a detective, that’s why. Let me take you to school for a minute.” She pressed her sticky finger against the screen. “Right here is our crime scene. The family was executed without mercy, which tells me that this was a hit. Say you’re the shooter. After you finish the job, what are you going to do next?”

David thought for a moment before he replied reluctantly, “I’m going to report the job done, and get paid.”

Jessica patted him on the head patronizingly and replied, “Good boy, now you’re thinking like an investigator. You see these neighborhoods? They’re all HUD housing. There’s only one place in this entire area that has the financing to pay for something like this, and it’s located only four blocks from the apartment.”

David brushed away the sticky residue of her fingers in his hair and snapped, “And what, pray tell, is located in that building, oh wise one?”

Jessica wiped her hand down the sleeve of his sweater, and replied, “That’s the campaign headquarters for Senator Martin Gilliam. Our shooter works for the new, hot-shot  Senator of New York City.”

David raised an eyebrow, and he laughed with condescension. “That’s a nice theory you’ve got there, but I think you’re reaching. Your lead didn’t turn up anything concrete to prove your claim. We still don’t know anything about the family that was killed, and you have nothing more than a conspiracy theory to offer. You lost, and so did I. It’s a draw,” he announced triumphantly. 

Jessica shrugged her shoulders and retrieved her black leather jacket from the hook where Karen had placed it, and pulled it on along with her thick, woolly scarf. “Except that it isn’t a theory. I visited that apartment building last night after leaving the diner, and had a nice chat with the piece of shit apartment manager. It took some persuasion, but he managed to remember the name of the man who paid him for his silence. The shooter’s name is Bryson Masters, and he’s the head of security for the new senator.”

David leapt to his feet and yelled, “What?! You already knew all this, and you didn’t tell anyone? Why didn’t you at least tell Karen? I thought she was your friend.”

Jessica tossed his coat across the desk, and he caught it against his chest on reflex. “I didn’t want to ruin her fun. Besides, she called me ‘tavern trash.’ She deserves to spin her wheels for a bit.”

David reluctantly pulled his coat on as he bitched, “You cheated. You fucking cheated to get what you wanted. You are such an asshole.”

Jessica opened the door, and waved the cranky hacker to go first. “Yeah, well, you fell for it, so what does that make you, Lichtenberg? Let’s go. We’re going to go track down our shooter. You can tell me about Castle on the way.”

David cast her an evil glare as he liberated his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call Frank and tell him what _we_ found out, and the four of us can track him together. I don’t want to be alone with you any longer than I have to be.”

Jessica slammed her door behind them and sauntered down the hallway next to him. “If you think it’s necessary. We could just handle this ourselves, and let the lovebirds go fuck like rabbits while we have all the fun.”

David Lieberman sighed wearily as they entered the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. “Yeah, being with you is a real barrel of laughs.”

Jessica offered her sidekick for the night a friendly punch to the arm. She ignored his exclamation of pain, and retorted, “Like I said earlier, Landowski, the pleasure is all yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Wow. Jessica is bigger asshole than even I gave her credit for being. I still love her, though! Let me know what you thought of the bonus chapter, and I will be back soon with the next chapter from Frank and Karen! Have an amazing day, friends! Peace and love to you!


	10. Karen Forgives the Assholes That Sin Against Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just a quick chapter to set up the next big action! This chapter may be short, but it is full of emotion with a dash of humor.**

“We can’t just go to the Senator’s house without a plan, Frank,” Karen chastised him as they walked down the chilly, New York street. “We have no evidence or proof that he was behind the deaths of that family.”

Frank shrugged and replied caustically, “You heard that spineless idiot back there. He gave me all the proof I need, and I already have a plan. I’m going to kill the shooter, and then I’ll kill the senator, only slower and with more pain.”

Karen knew he was going to say that, but she had foolishly hoped that her influence had softened him some. Things with Frank were never that easy, but anything worth having never was. “No, Frank. There’s another way, a better way, to get justice for that family. They deserve to have the truth about Martin Gilliam, whatever that may be, splashed all over the news for the whole world to see. You can take away someone’s life without killing them. You know that better than anyone.”

She felt his thick bicep flex beneath her fingers where she held him with her gloved hand. Mentally, she shored up her defenses for the battle to come. Even though he was ex-military, Frank did not like being told what to do, especially if it was opposite of what he wanted to do. If they were going to be partners in more than the bedroom, then there would have to be compromises on both their sides. Sometimes, that meant that Frank couldn’t kill someone that deserved it, and this was one of those times.

“Be reasonable, Frank,” Karen pleaded with him. “You have a clean slate and a new name. You can’t risk that by killing the newly-elected Senator for New York! We have to do this the right way. Let me call Detective Brett Mahoney and bring him in on our investigation. We can catch this guy, and expose him for what he’s done.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “You want to bring in the same guy that tried to tie me to Lewis as a domestic terrorist? No fucking way. I don’t want cops anywhere near this until I get answers. They can come in after I’m done, and pick at the leftovers.”

A shiver chased down Karen’s spine, but it had nothing to do with the mid-November chill. “You want answers, and so do I, but we can do that without killing a member of Congress. I’m going to expose this asshole in the paper, and everyone will watch as his life falls to pieces around him. That family will get justice, Frank. I will make sure of it.”

Frank didn’t reply, and it made Karen nervous. There was still so much about him that she didn’t understand, and she was always afraid that she would push him too far. Several minutes of tense silence wrapped them in an uncomfortable cocoon against the honking horns, shouting people, and barking dogs that they passed as they walked the street arm-in-arm. She thought her heart would explode before Frank spoke again, but it broke instead.

“Have you ever seen a dead child with your own eyes, Karen?” he asked quietly.

Karen heard him as clearly as if he had shouted in her ear with a bullhorn. An unbidden image of a familiar freckled face flashed before her mind’s eye, and her heart shattered into pieces for the millionth time. She saw those familiar electric blue eyes forever closed with mortician’s thread, and the grief sliced through her guts with savage claws that had not dulled with time. Her vision drowned beneath the flood of tears that filled her eyes until a single drop broke free and rolled down her cheek.

Without reaching up to wipe it away, she replied shakily, “My little brother, Kevin. He, uh, died in a car accident when he was 16 years old. He ran off the road and hit a fence during his trip to the city to visit me, and he was pronounced dead on arrival. I had to identify his body, because my parents were out of the country.”

Her forward motion was halted abruptly, and she stumbled. Frank’s strong arms caught her, but his hands weren’t gentle as he steadied her. He gripped her by both arms and held her captive to his furious gaze. “Why am I just now hearing about this, Page? Don’t you think this is something you should have mentioned before now? How could you keep something like that from me after everything I’ve told you about my children? Why did you let me think that you wouldn’t understand?”

Karen hung limp in his grasp, but her voice was steady and strong when she replied, “It happened five years ago, Frank. I’ve had time to cope with the rage and grief of losing him, but yours is still fresh and raw. I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I was just holding on to it until the right time.”

His fingers gentled their hold on her, and he tugged her into his chest for a crushing hug. Karen wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her nose into the fragrant warmth of his neck. His chest vibrated under her ear as he rumbled, “God damn it, Karen. I am a fucking asshole. I’m sorry. I’m sorry your little brother died, I’m sorry you had to be the one to claim his body, and I’m really fucking sorry that I threw that in your face and then yelled at you about it. Feel free to take that gun out of your purse and shoot me, doll. I deserve it.”

Karen’s laugh was watery, but light, and muffled against the soft wool of his sweater. “I’m not going to shoot you, you jerk. That’s your answer for everything. I’d much rather make you suffer for it, and then make you pay for your crimes.”

Frank’s arms tightened around her waist until they were plastered to each other from chest to hip. “Yeah?” he asked, his tone gently teasing. “What kind of atonement you got in store for me, doll? You know how us Catholics love our penance.”

Karen rubbed her cold nose against his warm skin, and she smiled against his pulse. “Hmm...I’m thinking that you should cook dinner for me at my place tomorrow night.”

Frank’s big hands burned trails up and down her back before possessively gripping her ass, only to start the whole process all over again. Neither of them seemed to care that they were standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk in Hell’s Kitchen on a Friday evening. As far as Karen was concerned, they were the only two that mattered.

“That’s not much of a punishment, doll. I’m a great cook,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

Karen pulled back to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t done. After you cook for me, we’re going to binge-watch no less than three episodes of _The Flash_ , and I don’t mean that we’re just going to pretend to watch it while you fuck me.”

Frank leaned in until the fog of their breaths mingled and became one. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay as long as I can fuck you afterwards.”

Karen really wanted to kiss him and forget about the reality of their investigation, but the reporter in her wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she replied gently, “That goes without saying, but I wasn’t done, Frank. I also want to expose Senator Gilliam for what he’s done, and I can’t do that if he’s dead. Promise me that no matter what else happens tonight, I will be able to write about it in my column without incriminating you in his death.”

Frank’s lips tightened, and he backed away until they were eye-to-eye. She could tell he was struggling with how to reply, and she held her breath until he finally spoke. “Okay, I’ll agree to that,” he said, shocking Karen into speechlessness. He continued, “As long as I get to run the rest of the op. I’ll make sure you get what you need to take him down, but I’m doing it my way. Got it?”

Karen’s knees buckled in relief, and she threw her arms around his neck to plant a firm kiss against his lips. “Thank you, Frank!” she said between presses of their lips. “I have a feeling that we’re getting ready to expose something big!”

Frank gave her one last, hard kiss before releasing her from his firm hold. “Yeah, you better get a raise for this shit, because it’s a lot easier just to put a bullet between someone’s eyes,” he replied cynically as he fished his cell phone out of his back pocket. “Hold on a minute, doll. This is Lieberman.”

Karen nodded eagerly for him to take it, and crowded in close to try to hear both sides. Unfortunately, Friday evening in New York City was anything but quiet, and she could only hear Frank’s side of the conversation.

“Talk to me, Lieberman,” he commanded as he answered the call. “Yeah.....yeah.....We got the shooter’s name, and you’re not going to believe this.....What? What the fuck do you mean that Jones already knew the names?.....I’m going to kill her. You tell her that I when I see her, I’m going to.....Yeah, we’re close. We’re only about a block from Josie’s.....See you in fifteen.”

For a minute, Karen was afraid that he was going to crush the phone in his fist. “So, we’re headed to Josie’s?” she asked, her tone deceptively pleasant.

Frank nodded grimly, and laced his fingers through hers before he started walking again. “Yeah, we’re meeting them there. It seems your bestie visited the crime scene after she left the diner last night, and bullied the shooter’s name out of the apartment manager. The only problem is that she forgot to share that information with anyone until after we left.”

Karen wanted to be angry at Jessica for sitting on the information so long, but she was too excited about the proof that she was getting interested in something besides drinking. “No harm done,” Karen excused her friend. “Now, we have two potential witnesses to testify against Gilliam and Masters instead of one. See? I told you this would work out.”

Frank snorted and tucked their twined hands beneath the warmth of his leather jacket. “Your optimism never ceases to amaze me, doll. It would be cute, if it wasn’t so delusional.”

Karen punched the brick wall of his arm, and cursed when pain lanced up her arm. “You just wait, buddy. You and Jessica will be knocking back beers and knocking out bad guys together in no time. You two are my people. You have to get along, because I say so.”

Frank’s laugh created clouds on the chilly evening air. “Damn, you’re bossy. I don’t know why, but I like it.”

Karen shot him a sly smile, and retorted, “You like it, because then you can punish me for it. That’s exactly why I like it.”

Frank’s steps grew faster, and Karen broke into a trot to keep up with him. “You and that mouth,” he muttered as they closed in on Josie’s Bar. “Did I mention that it was faster to just kill him? Just say the word, and we could be back to your place in no time.”

Karen’s laughter floated into the busy night, and several pedestrians paused to look at her with a smile. “Anything worth having is worth waiting for, Frank. Let’s do this the right way, not the easy way.”

Frank opened the door of the bar for her to walk through, and said as she passed him, “I want you to remember that tomorrow night, doll, because those words are going to come back to haunt you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I love the two of them together. Their relationship is so unique, but still so powerful to me. Hope you enjoyed it! If you have the time, drop me a few lines to let me know what you think of the story so far. I love to chat, and I reply to everyone! Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and continues to follow the story. I don't take that for granted, and I will pay you back by slaving over my laptop to churn out the chapters as fast as possible. That's just how I roll. Peace and love, y'all!**


	11. Karen Has a Headache

Karen and Frank found Jessica and David sitting at a table at the back of Josie’s Bar. David was sitting as far away from Jess as possible without being at another table, and he was pointedly ignoring her while he texted furiously on his smartphone. Jessica was sipping at a bottle of beer, and flicking peanut shells at David’s head, but only managing to hit him half the time. The poor guy was covered in peanut shells and dust, but he steadfastly refused to acknowledge her existence by brushing it away. Karen had to respect his dedication, especially when a peanut smacked against his forehead with audible force, and he didn’t even pause his fingers to rub at the reddening skin.

“Jess! Stop it!” Karen snapped at her friend as she brushed David’s coat and plucked peanut shells from his hair. “You’re acting like a schoolyard bully. What is wrong with you?”

Frank clapped David on the shoulder, and reluctantly took the empty seat between the two. “Can I answer that?” he asked, signaling Josie to bring them a round.

David finally put his phone down, and thanked Karen for her efforts before he replied, “She’s just pissed, because she cheated on a friendly wager, and I refused to hold up my end of the bargain unless we both won. So far, neither of us has budged.”

“I can make you budge, Lipbalm,” Jessica muttered under her breath.

Karen chose to ignore the insult, and asked, “What kind of wager? Does it have to do with the case?”

David’s gaze skated away from hers, and Jessica offered a wicked smile as she responded, “Yes and no. I won the bet fair and square, and Hacker Man is going to pony up, or else.”

Frank narrowed his dark eyes on his friend, and asked suspiciously, “What exactly did you use as your bargaining chip, Lieberman?”

David was saved from answering by the arrival of Josie with four lukewarm bottles of beer. Frank slipped her a $20 before Karen could liberate her wallet from her purse, but she couldn’t help but be relieved that he had beat her to it. This investigation was really beginning to cut into her strict budget.

“It doesn’t matter,” David brushed him off hastily. “I’m not going pay up until she agrees that I win by default, because she cheated.”

Karen collapsed into her chair, and took a sip of the nasty, warm beer. “Jess, what could he possibly want that’s so bad that you won’t let him win, too? It’s only fair that you both get what you want since you cheated.”

Jessica lined up her shot, and flicked an unshelled peanut at David’s head that he deftly avoided. “He wants me to have Sunday dinner with his family, and I have to be both polite and sober. He asks for too much.”

Frank shot David an incredulous look, and exclaimed, “Are you out of your mind, Lieberman? You can’t let her around Zach and Leo. And how do you think Sarah is going to feel with you bringing home a young, pretty woman from the city? I thought you were smart.”

David shot him a venomous look, and snapped, “Considering the fact that she kissed you in my kitchen, I’m thinking she won’t say anything. I’m also thinking that my 12-year-old daughter is obsessed with Earth’s powered protectors, and that Jessica Jones is one of her favorites. I’m thinking that I will do whatever is necessary to get her to open her bedroom door and talk to me, and since I don’t have the Spider Kid from Queens on speed dial, I will settle for Jessica. I want my family back, Frank, and I’m thinking I will do whatever I have to do to make that happen.”

Karen had stopped listening after _“she kissed you in my kitchen”_. Distantly, she could hear Frank and David bickering with each other, but it seemed far away and unimportant. She was too busy wondering why Frank had kissed another woman, but had been so reluctant to kiss her. She tried to imagine what David’s wife looked like, and imagined she was gorgeous and curvy. She thought of Frank’s full lips clinging to someone else’s, and her stomach roiled. Logically, she knew this had likely happened months ago before she and Frank had ever crossed that line, but she was irrationally angry and hurt all the same. He should have told her, should have explained more about his history with David, before she had to find out like this.

Her hearing sharpened, and she rejoined the heated exchange in time to hear Jessica say loudly, “I’ll do it.”

Everyone stopped talking to turn and look at her, and she lifted her chin, and repeated, “I said, I’ll do it. I’ll have dinner at your house Sunday night, and I will be sober and polite-ish. I won’t, however, quit calling you by the wrong name, because it’s hilarious.”

No one spoke for a tense moment. Eventually, David cleared his throat, and replied stiffly, “Thank you. It’s a compromise I’m willing to agree on. I’ll fulfill my end of the agreement, too.”

Karen didn’t want to think about Frank kissing another woman, so she shook the image away, and said sharply, “Now that we have the important issues handled, what is our next step in locating our shooter?”

David studiously ignored Frank’s suspicious glare, and said, “Thanks to my contacts in Rising Tide, I have the Senator’s home address and access to his schedule. He lives with his wife in a big, fancy house over in Huntington, and his schedule has him at home for the night. Masters, on the other hand, is probably still in his office located right here in Hell’s Kitchen. The Senator has a big publicity event scheduled for tomorrow, so he’s likely there going over his plans.”

Frank perked up at this news. “What’s the address?”

Jessica drained the rest of her beer, and belched loudly. “It’s only four blocks away. Why do you think we’re meeting here at this shithole? It’s certainly not for the beer.”

“Wait a minute! Just slow down,” Karen demanded, holding her hands up to each of them. “We’re not going to just storm in there without a plan. Bryson Masters runs a security detail, so I guarantee that we won’t make it through the front door without being spotted. We need another way inside.”

David finished peeling the label off his beer and replied darkly, “Well, I would offer to hack into the city’s blueprints for the building, but _someone_ didn’t give me time to grab my laptop before dragging me out of her apartment.”

Jessica flicked another peanut, and this time, it slammed into the tip of his nose. She ignored his yelled curse, and said replied sarcastically, “ _Someone_ is going to kick your ass if you don’t quit your _kvetching_ , Linderman.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frank spat, his tone disgusted. “We’re supposed to be planning an op, but instead we’re running a daycare.” He turned his head toward the bar, and called out, “Hey, Josie! You got a computer my buddy can borrow real quick? We’ll make it worth your while.”

Josie’s eyes met Karen’s behind Frank’s back, and she clasped her hands and mouthed, _“Please!”_ Josie’s lips twisted with reluctant capitulation, and she called back, “Yeah, but he better not be pulling up any porno sites. And it’s going to cost you a hundred bucks for fifteen minutes.”

“A hundred dollars?!” David yelped, but Karen shushed him and shook her head in warning.

The four of them gathered their things, and followed Josie behind the bar and into a small office where she waved her hand like Vanna White at a cluttered desk with an old, blocky PC monitor that was surrounded by dirty coffee cups. “It’s all yours for fifteen minutes,” she stated with her palm held out to David.

“Pay the lady, Lieberman,” Frank insisted ruthlessly. “That’s the price you pay for going into the field without your weapons.”

With ill grace and muttered curses, David pulled his wallet from his back pocket, and plucked out a crisp $100 bill. He slapped it into Josie’s hand, and said by way of thanks, “How old is this thing? Is it even connected to the internet?”

Her only reply was a rude hand gesture and a crisp reminder. “Fifteen minutes.”

David wasted no more time in assuming the seat in front of the monitor, and shaking the mouse to bring it to life. Karen, Frank, and Jessica all crowded in behind him, and watched over his shoulders as he began typing in a rapid code. Combinations of words and symbols filled the screen, and instantaneous responses to his commands began to light up the screen. It was the most thrilling nonsense language that Karen had ever seen, and she couldn’t help but gasp when a blueprint suddenly filled the monitor.

“David, that’s amazing!” she gushed. “I am truly impressed. Watching you work was like watching magic.”

His neck turned red, and he flashed her a pleased grin. “Thank you, Karen. It’s nice to be appreciated for a change. I can see why everyone likes you; you’re pretty amazing, too.”

Frank cuffed him on the back of the head and growled, “I’d appreciate it if you would focus on the job instead of flirting with my woman, asshole.”

Karen’s stomach swooped with gleeful hope as Frank’s words registered in her ears. _My woman._ Those two small words were heavy with meaning, and she welcomed their weight. Frank had just declared in front of their closest friends that she belonged to him, and had lain claim to her with unambiguous meaning. All thoughts of him kissing someone else dissipated, and all that remained was the security and hope of those two little words. _My woman._

“Now things are starting to get interesting,” Jessica chimed in to make things worse. “Frank kissed Lederhosen’s wife, so now he’s making a move on Karen. Bold move, Lichtenstein. Stupid, but bold.”

Karen closed her eyes and rubbed her temples as a headache bloomed behind her eyes. Frank’s arm wound around her waist and pulled her into his side. His tone was hard and full of command when he said, “Fun time’s over, boys and girls. Let’s study that blueprint, and make a plan. The clock is ticking.”

Jessica and David turned their attention back to the monitor, and Frank tugged Karen off to the side for a private word. “Hey, you okay, doll?”

Karen nodded her head and replied softly, “I’m fine. Just a little headache from all the excitement.”

Frank snorted as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms with comforting strength. “That’s one thing you could call her. Listen, I need to explain what happened with Sarah. It’s not what you think.”

She reached out to straighten his coat collar, and replied sincerely, “It doesn’t matter, because it happened before us, but I would love to hear more about how you and David met and became friends.”

Frank captured her hand, and used it to pull her into his chest. “He’s right, you know. You are pretty amazing.”

Karen smiled into his kiss before she melted into the heat and taste of his lips. She could have gotten lost for days in his arms, but their friends were not that patient.

“When you two are done sucking face, we found our way in,” Jessica called out.

Frank reluctantly released her, and they joined their friends at the computer once more. They watched over David’s shoulder as he pointed out the flaw in the building’s security that would allow them entrance without being seen. By the time their fifteen minutes were up, they finally had a plan.

Before leaving the bar, Frank checked each of his weapons for readiness, David erased his work, Jessica left to take a piss, and Karen sent a quick text message.

 

Karen: _Moving on a huge lead about our new Senator. I want a raise when I hand you the scoop of the year._

It only took seconds for the reply to come winging back to her.

Ellison: _Keep it safe, keep it legal, and keep me in the loop. Go get him, Page._

Karen pocketed her cell phone with a growing sense of excitement. This was the part of being a reporter that she loved the most. It wasn’t writing the words of a story that made her love her job; it was the thrill of the chase and searching for the truth that she lived for.

They settled their tab with Josie, and the four of them made their way back out into the chilly, November night. As David flagged down a taxi for them, Frank leaned in to murmur, “You ready for this, doll?”

Karen patted the bulge in her purse for reassurance, and nodded her head firmly. “I’m ready. Let’s go catch a murderer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I know I keep saying this, but the action is ramping up next chapter! I've got all day tomorrow to write more, and I'm looking forward to the confrontation between Frank and our bad guy! Hope you're enjoying the story, and would love to hear what you think so far. Have an awesome rest of your weekend, friends! Peace and kindness to you all!**


	12. Frank Wins

Frank’s POV

 

Frank blended into the shadows between Master’s building and the one next door. Lieberman and Karen waited at the end of the ally as look-outs, and Jessica Jones stood next to him looking up toward the cast iron balcony three stories up. He hated that their plan of entering the building hinged on the mercurial woman, but he had agreed that it was the fastest, easiest way inside without being detected.

“You sure you can do this, Jones?” he murmured to the petite woman next to him.

She looked ridiculous with her black leather jacket adorned by a big, fluffy blue scarf. Her small hands were shoved in her pockets, and the tip of her upturned nose was red with cold. She gave Frank a side-eye, and replied drily, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can manage. Just be ready when the building goes dark.”

Frank pulled his Kimber Warrior from it resting place in his shoulder holster, screwed on the suppressor, and released the safety. “I’m ready when you are.”

Jessica bent her knees, and replied, “Don’t forget we need him alive. Karen will be very put out if you kill him before we get answers, and that means she probably won’t put out for you, either.”

Without waiting for his scathing reply, she leapt vertically into the air. Frank couldn’t help but be impressed when she landed with barely a sound on the balcony three stories up. He watched her with grudging respect as she jumped from balcony to balcony on her way to the roof until she disappeared from his sight. According to Lieberman’s blueprints, the main power breaker for the building was on the roof, and if Jessica could disable it, then Frank could go in the side door without tripping any alarms. Unfortunately, their prey would be alerted that something wasn’t right, but hopefully, he wouldn’t suspect an ambush.

A shower of sparks lit up the New York night, and the lights in the building went dark. That was Frank’s cue, and he shot the lock out of the door. Without hesitation, he wrenched the door open, and made his way inside the darkened building with his gun at the ready. Frank knew exactly where he was going, again thanks to Lieberman’s blueprints, and he flowed up the stairs on silent feet as he headed for the offices of the Senator’s security detail.

The building was host to a number of small businesses, but Frank came across no one as he climbed three flights of stairs toward his goal. He eased the door open to the third floor, and checked both ways before proceeding to his left toward Master’s offices. He strained to hear any sounds of footfalls or breathing, but the only noises were the buzzing of the emergency florescent bulbs flickering against the encroaching darkness. When he reached the door with a gold nameplate that announced _Master’s Security Company, LLC_ , he pressed an ear against the door, but heard nothing.

Standing to the side, Frank reached out to turn the knob on the door and pushed it open. Almost immediately, three shots rang out from within the office, and Frank watched as three holes exploded in the drywall of the opposite wall. That answered his question of whether Masters was even in the building with definitive proof.

Frank knew there was no more need for pretense. Their quarry was cornered, armed, and aware of their presence. The only thing left to do now was capture him. “Is that any way to greet visitors, asshole?” Frank called out from his post next to the door. “Your social skills need some work. So does your aim.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” a deep, male voice barked from the shadows of his office.

Frank quietly reloaded the missing rounds in his gun, and called back, “Why don’t you come out here, and I’ll tell you?”

Masters’ reply was three more rounds splintering the door frame next to Frank’s head. He ducked to avoid the splintered wood, but a sting of pain against his cheek told him he wasn’t entirely successful. “How about you come in here, and the winner gets to ask the questions?”

A slow smile crept over Frank’s face, and he muttered, “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

Without warning, he dove inside the door of the office, and rolled to a crouch as shots rang out over his head. Each flash of the muzzle lit up the room for a split second, and that was all Frank needed to plot his capture. He crouched behind the bulk of a large, metal desk, and gave it a mighty shove in the right direction. Abruptly, the gunshots stopped, and a man cried out with pain. Frank leapt to his feet, vaulted the desk, and fisted a handful of hair before slamming the man’s head into the desk with a sickening, metallic crunch. The man tried to lift his gun toward Frank, but he ruthlessly smashed Masters’ hand against the desk until bones snapped, and the gun dropped to the floor.

Frank was breathing heavily, and his heartrate was through the roof with adrenaline, but he had won. Part of him was disappointed at how easily he had vanquished his enemy. Masters struggled beneath Frank’s firm grip, so he pulled his right arm back and plowed it into his face. The man went limp beneath him, but he did not let down his guard. The sound of someone clearing their throat in the doorway had Frank aiming his gun between Jessica Jones’ eyes.

“Dude, Karen’s going to be pissed if you killed him,” she said from her position leaning against the doorway.

Frank only hesitated two short seconds before he lowered his weapon and holstered it. “He isn’t dead, smartass. Just incapacitated.”

He reached over to yank the phone cord from the wall, and wrapped it around Masters’ wrists before he regained consciousness. Jessica offered no further commentary as she watched him work, until a familiar voice whispered loudly, “Is the coast clear?”

Frank hauled the man’s dead weight over to a nearby chair, and dumped him in the seat. Jessica leaned her head out into the hallway, and replied loudly, “I think Frank killed him, but I haven’t gone in to check yet.”

Karen flew into the room bathed in the dim glow of the emergency lights. “Frank! We talked about this! How are we supposed to find out who those poor people are if he’s dead?”

Frank cursed under his breath, and replied sourly, “God dammit, he’s not dead. Your little friend over there is just trying to be funny and failing miserably. As usual.”

“Oh,” Karen said, the wind in sails evaporating as Masters began to moan and roll his head. “Well, okay then.”

She turned on the flashlight built into her phone, and began to scan their surroundings in the small office as Frank bent down to secure the man’s ankles to the chair legs. “There was a laptop on that desk before I shoved it across the room. See if you can find it, and get Lieberman in here to have a look.”

As Karen got on her hands and knees to crawl beneath the desk, he heard his friend say from the hallway, “I’m not going in there. I don’t like dead bodies.”

Jessica huffed with exasperation, and reached out to snag him by the collar and drag him into the room. “It was a joke, Longbottom.”

David wrestled his coat from her grip and straightened his collar angrily. “Oh, we’re doing Harry Potter references instead of German pants now, huh? Real clever, asshole.”

“I found it!” Karen’s triumphant shout echoed in the small office from beneath the desk. “I got his laptop, and it’s still powered on!”

Lieberman joined Karen to pore over its contents as Frank squatted in front of the bound and bleeding form of Bryson Masters. Jessica didn’t go anywhere, and he could feel the weight of her gaze boring into his back. Choosing to ignore her for the moment, Frank reached up and smacked the moaning man roughly on the cheek several times until his eyes opened, and he glared blearily back at Frank.

“There he is,” Frank said, his tone full of satisfaction. “Guess what, asshole? I won, so now you’re going to answer some questions for me.”

Masters spit blood on the floor next to Frank’s boot and snarled, “I’m not telling you shit. I get paid a lot of money to ensure my silence, so unless you’re offering me something better, I got no incentive to tell you anything.”

Frank grunted as he stood to his feet, gripped a handful of Masters’ hair in his left hand, and slammed his right fist into his face. He ignored the flash of pain that lanced up his arm, and reveled in the feel of bone cracking beneath his knuckles. Masters’ head rolled on his shoulders, and blood poured from his nose to drip off his lips. Frank held his head steady until their eyes were locked on each other, and said menacingly, “You know what I did to the last guy that wouldn’t answer my questions? I shredded his face against a broken mirror. He was my best friend, so I let him live, but I don’t know you from shit. How’s that for incentive?”

Masters dropped Frank’s gaze and rasped, “What do you want to know?”

Before Frank could ask, Jessica stepped forward and said, “The Asian family you killed. They were here illegally, weren’t they?”

Frank shot her an annoyed glance, but Masters surprised him by answering. “Yes, they came here on a shipping container from Thailand.”

“Who were they, and how were they tied to Gilliam?” Frank demanded.

Red spit bubbles burst against his teeth as he laughed disparagingly, “Hell, no. I’m not telling you anything else until I talk to an attorney. I’ve got leverage on my side.”

Jessica snorted. “Look around, dumbass. Do you see any badges here? We’re not the cops, and we don’t give a damn about your leverage. In case you didn’t recognize him, let me introduce you to Frank Castle. You remember him from the news, right? Crazy ex-military guy that killed dozens of people and terrorized the city? Do you think he cares about calling your lawyer?”

Masters’ skin visibly paled, and he stuttered as he spilled his guts. “When Senator Gilliam was eighteen, he joined the Air Force, and was eventually stationed in Thailand for four years. During that time, he met a young local woman, and began a relationship with her. They never legally married, but they had two children in quick succession. When he was given orders to return to the U.S., he left them all behind and never looked back.”

Frank’s blood boiled beneath his skin at the callous disregard of both Gilliam and Masters. He wanted to kill them both. “What happened, Masters?” Frank growled. “How did they end up in Hell’s Kitchen with bullets through their brains?”

His left eye was swelling shut and his nose continued to drip blood as he wheezed, “The woman saw his picture on the internet after he won the election, and contacted the campaign office. She threatened to go to the media about her relationship to him if he didn’t pay a substantial sum of money.”

Jessica tapped her toe against the linoleum floor, and asked, “I’m assuming he didn’t pay the money. How did they get here, shitbag? Did you arrange for them to come here only to kill them?”

Masters’ head bobbed on his shoulders, and his eyes began to roll back in his head. Frank reached out to smack him awake again, and barked, “Answer the question.”

He coughed up more blood bubbles before replying through cracked lips, “My employer told the woman that if she brought the kids to the U.S., they would be provided for and sent to American schools. I arranged their transport to the docks to keep them off the government’s radar, but we weren’t expecting her to bring her parents, too. I paid an ex-employee to stash them in an empty apartment he manages, and after getting the green light from my employer, I killed them all.”

Frank’s vision went red, and he slammed his fist into Masters’ stomach. The man retched and vomited down his front as Frank snarled, “You don’t deserve to live. You killed a mother and her children, and you killed grandparents for a payday. I want nothing more than to send you on a one-way trip to your reserved spot in the ninth circle of Hell, you piece of shit, but I made a promise. You get to live, but you better spill every fucking bit of information you have on Martin Gilliam to the cops. I’ll know if you don’t cooperate, and I will find you and spill your guts on the ground.”

The man glared at him through one eye as he wheezed and moaned between bloody teeth. “Fuck you, asshole. Try getting to me in federal prison.”

Frank laughed mirthlessly, and taunted him, “Oh, you think I can’t reach you in prison? Let me introduce you to Jessica Jones. You remember her from the news, don’t you? Crazy, alcoholic private investigator that can punch through concrete walls? You think she cares about maximum security?”

“Only in that it means maximum effort on my part,” Jessica clarified helpfully.

“Uh, guys?” Lieberman interrupted their fun. “I have good news, and some unexpected news.”

Frank and Jessica both turned to look at where Lieberman and Karen were hunched over the battery-powered laptop. “What did you find?” Frank demanded.

David ran a hand through his cropped curls, and replied, “The good news is that Masters isn’t as good at security as he thought. He kept incriminating evidence stored in a hidden file on his hard drive including money transfers, photos, and recorded conversations.”

“That’s great news, Littleman. What’s the catch?” Jessica asked before Frank could reply.

A camera flashed multiple times in the dim light of the room, and Frank saw Karen slip her phone back into her coat pocket before she replied crisply, “His employer wasn’t Senator Martin Gilliam. It was his wife, Christine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Was that action-y enough, y'all? I mean, I could have written more blood and gore, but I like to pace myself. Thank you to all my awesomesauce friends that have taken the time to drop me a line or ten to tell me what they think about the story! It always makes my day to hear from you guys, and it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my heart. Awwww! I'm already working on the next chapter, so I'll see you guys soon! Peace and love, y'all!**


	13. Frank is The Punisher Without Firing a Bullet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning! This chapter contains graphic descriptions of violence including murder and murder/suicide. Sorry if this ruins the plot for you, but I don't want to take a chance of harming someone unintentionally.**

Frank POV

 

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Lieberman asked from the back seat of the car for the fifth time in the past hour.

Frank sped along the highway toward the city of Huntington located in Long Island, NY. Karen sat in the passenger seat, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone as she texted with her editor, and Lieberman was stuffed in the backseat with Jessica, who had promptly fallen asleep against his shoulder and began to snore. In the trunk of his borrowed car, Bryson Masters was bound and gagged, and likely getting blood all over Curtis’ carpeted trunk. Frank would have to remember to steam clean the carpets before returning the vehicle to his Marine buddy.

“For the last time, Lieberman, I’m running this op. I thought you trusted my judgement, asshole,” Frank reminded him ruthlessly. “Wipe Jones’ drool off your shoulder, and tell me where to turn.”

Lieberman sulkily consulted the map pulled up on his cell phone, and Frank glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He watched as Lieberman’s fingers tapped one-handed on the screen while the other hand nonchalantly pushed Jessica’s head back on the perch of his shoulder when her chin began to droop. He shook his head at the strange tableau the four of them made together. He hated to admit it, but they made a hell of a team.

As Frank maneuvered through the thick, Friday night traffic on I-495 E according to his friend’s directions, he paused to think back over the eventful evening. He didn’t waste time giving any more thought to Bryson Masters, currently moaning pitifully in the trunk, or even on the Senator and his murderess wife. Instead, he thought about Karen, and replayed the memory of her fallen expression when she’d heard about him and Sarah.

David Lieberman had a way of getting under Frank’s skin, but he had never wanted to hit the master hacker as badly as he had wanted to back at Josie’s. What the fuck had the asshole been thinking to blurt out that Sarah had kissed Frank? It wasn’t something that he was especially proud of to begin with, and he’d had no intention of ever mentioning anything about it to Karen. He knew it would hurt her, and he’d seen no point in discussing it other than to explain some of the antagonism between him and Lieberman. Of course, his dumbass friend had taken it upon himself to spill that bit of information in front of both Karen and Jessica, and Frank had witnessed its impact in the flash of hurt that had blazed in Karen’s brilliant blue eyes.

Even though she had assured him that it didn’t matter, Frank couldn’t let go of the idea that it really did. For some reason, he felt like he should still explain the situation so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. It was important to him that Karen understood the circumstances, because he didn’t want her to think that he had feelings for his friend’s wife. She had been honest and forthcoming about her feelings for Murdock when he had asked, and he owed her the same honesty in return. He understood all too well the acidic burn of jealousy and the damage it could do, and he didn’t want her to ever question where she stood with him.

Frank brought the car to a halt at the entrance to a gated community, and rolled his window down. “You got Masters’ security badge?” he asked his friend impatiently.

There was the sound of a scuffle from the backseat as Lieberman hissed, “Wake up, we’re here!” He sighed heavily and added, “Jessica has it. She took everything that was in his pockets.”

Jessica yawned loudly as she thrust her hand between the seats to hand him a security badge. “I also took the card that Connie’s client gave him. I’m keeping it to replace the one Karen swiped off my desk.”

“You knew about that?” Karen asked, surprised. “I’m shocked you even noticed with the two bags of trash I hauled to your garbage chute.”

Frank rolled his eyes, and inserted the card into the electronic gate lock as Jessica replied drily, “How many times do I have to explain to you people that I’m a private detective?”

The three of them continued to bicker and spar as Frank drove slowly throughout the winding neighborhood of sprawling, expensive homes with the car’s headlights off. He turned right into a paved driveway that stretched for half a mile before they reached a huge, two-story house surrounded by several acres of wooded landscape. Frank parked out of sight of the house, and killed the engine.

Everyone sat in silence for a long moment, before Frank opened the door and announced, “Let’s get this show on the road. I’d like to get some dinner sometime before midnight.”

Karen gathered her purse, and Lieberman gathered Jessica, as well as Masters’ laptop, while Frank popped the trunk to retrieve the bleeding shitbag. Once he had the man swaying unsteadily on his feet, Frank prodded him forward with the muzzle of his gun to the spine as his three companions took up position to his left, right, and back.

As they approached the glass French doors on the side of the house that were glowing softly with ambient light, Frank glanced to his right and said to Karen, “Keep your eyes peeled on them at all times, doll. You never know what kind of crazy shit desperate people are cable of doing.”

He waited for her reassuring murmur of agreement before he turned to his left. “Lieberman, you got any way of copying what’s on that computer for Karen? Once the cops get ahold of it, that evidence will never see the light of day outside a courtroom.”

Lieberman jingled his keys in his pocket, and replied, “I keep a flash drive on my keychain at all times. I already copied everything during the trip here.”

“Good man,” Frank praised him as he prodded his captive to move faster. Without glancing over his shoulder, he called out, “Jones, I don’t know what to tell you. Just try not to break anything.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she drawled sarcastically at his back.

They came to a pause outside the glass doors, and Frank could see the Senator inside working at his desk. He appeared to be in his early 30’s with thick, sandy brown hair and cookie-cutter WASP features that had been polished by wealth. He couldn’t see Mrs. Gilliam, but it was a safe bet that if Martin were home, she would be as well. Frank held on to Masters’ bound hands, and banged on the thick glass with the butt of his gun. Martin Gilliam’s head jerked up at the noise, and his eyes widened at the sight of his security officer bleeding and gagged at the door. He paused for a long moment before he rose to his feet and made his way to the door, but his hand hesitated on the knob.

His voice was muffled by the thick glass when he demanded, “What’s the meaning of this? Masters? What have they done to you?”

Frank released the safety on his gun, and placed the muzzle against Masters’ temple. “Open the door, Senator. We need to have a talk with you about the murders of your Thai lover, her parents, and your two children.”

The blood drained from Sen. Gilliam’s face, and his hand shook as he unlocked the door and opened it. Frank immediately pointed the gun at the Senator’s forehead, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “What are you talking about? Mali and the children are safe at her parents’ home in Bangkok. I just heard from them a month ago, and they assured me that Mali and the boys were being well-taken care of.”

Frank pushed Masters through the door, forcing the Senator to back into the room as they advanced inside. He ignored Gilliam’s exclamation of innocence, and demanded, “Where’s your wife, Gilliam? Where’s Christine?”

Stains of color flooded the Senator’s cheeks, and replied harshly, “No. She has nothing to do with this. She doesn’t know about Mali and our children. I never told her about them, and it needs to stay that way for everyone’s sake.”

Frank forcibly sat Masters in a wingback chair, and held him still by gripping his hair at the scalp. He turned the gun on Gilliam, and motioned toward the opposite chair. “Have a seat, Gilliam. It seems that there’s a whole lot you don’t know about your wife.” He glanced to his friend, and ordered, “Lieberman, take a look at the Senator’s computer. There’s bound to be a security system here, and I don’t want anything pointing to our presence in this house.” Turning to Jessica, he said, “Jones, I need you to fetch the wife. Again, try to accomplish it without breaking anything.”

Jessica mimed a sharp salute before turning on her heel and heading toward the interior of the house while Lieberman carefully sat in the chair formerly occupied by the newest Senator from New York. With both his hands literally full, he wasn’t able to stop her when Karen stepped closer to the Senator. He saw her slip her hand into her coat pocket before a soft glow of light from her pocket indicated that her cell phone had been turned on.

“Tell us about Mali and the children, Senator Gilliam. Why did you leave your family behind in Thailand when you were transferred back to the States?” she asked the stunned man.

Gilliam blinked a few times before he found his tongue. “I met Mali in Bangkok on my first leave from base. I was only 19 years old, and she was 16,” he began, his gaze unfocused and distant. “I was young and stupid, and Mali got pregnant almost immediately. Her parents had been furious. Not only was she their only child, but she had ruined her chances at obtaining a scholarship to the university.”

Frank knew when to hold his tongue. Karen Page had a way of getting people to divulge their inner most secrets, and her magic was working on the Senator.

“Why didn’t you marry her, Senator? I know you had a second child with her shortly after the first, so that tells me that you had to feel something for her,” Karen asked, her tone empathetic and curious.

He focused on her for the first time, and replied earnestly, “I wanted to marry her. I begged her parents to give us permission, but they refused. They didn’t want their only daughter and grandchildren moving halfway around the world. When I got the orders to transfer back home, I had no choice but to leave her and our children behind, because her parents had pressured her into staying. I tried to keep our relationship going through email and phone calls, but eventually, she ceased all contact with me. She met another man, married him, and convinced him to adopt my boys. She told me to quit calling, because it would just confuse them. I told myself that it was better for them, because they wouldn’t remember me. They were just babies when I saw them last.”

Tears welled in his eyes, but Frank was not moved. He refused to understand how any man could just let go of his own flesh and blood. Gilliam had given up on his family instead of fighting for them. He didn’t deserve pity. He deserved pain.

“But, you said you spoke to Mali’s parents a month ago. Have you been in contact with them throughout the years?” Karen asked gently.

Gilliam nodded his head miserably. “I’ve been sending regular payments to Mali’s parents for the past ten years for them to help take care of her and the boys. They would call and give me updates on their health and happiness, and it was enough for me to know they were well cared for by their new father. Unfortunately, the last phone call I received from them was with the news that Mali’s husband had died in a freak accident at his work. She and the boys had taken it very hard, and I promised that I would do everything I could to help.”

Before anyone could respond, the ear-splitting sound of a screeching woman grew louder and louder until Jessica walked back into the room with a young, red-haired woman struggling and screaming obscenities from where she was draped over Jones’ shoulder in a fireman’s hold. She dropped the woman in the chair next to her husband before snapping another salute, and telling Frank, “Mission accomplished, sir.”

“Martin!” the Stepford wife of the Senator exclaimed, “What in God’s name is going on here? Who are these people?” She glanced around the room at each of them before her eyes landed on Bryson Masters. “Bryson? What’s happened to you?”

“I’m what happened to him,” Frank snapped, his patience worn thin. “We had a nice little chat with your hitman here, Christine, and he told us all about how you lured your husband’s Thai family to New York only to have them killed.”

“What?!” Senator Gilliam yelled, standing to his feet. Jessica, having taken up position behind his chair, forcefully sat him back down with a firm grip on his shoulder. The man didn’t seem to notice. He only had eyes for his scheming wife. “Christine, why would he say something like that?”

Frank could see the shutters falling over her eyes, and her lips dripped honeyed lies as she entreated sincerely, “He’s lying. I have no idea what he’s talking about, Martin.” As if on cue, her green eyes filled with tears, and she added shakily, “I’m scared, Marty. He’s got a gun.”

Karen’s tone changed and iced over as she addressed the Senator’s wife, “You can drop the charade, Mrs. Gilliam. Bryson Masters kept detailed records of all his correspondence with you stored on his laptop which is now in our possession. We know that you were the one that answered Mali’s phone call to the campaign headquarters, and we know that you arranged to have her and her children brought to New York illegally so there would be no paper trail back to your husband. We know you paid Bryson Masters to kill all five of them, and make them disappear, and we know you paid him $100,000 from the campaign funds to do it.”

Senator Gilliam’s face turned a sickly shade of gray. “They’re really dead? All of them? Even my boys?”

Karen’s tone softened as she addressed him sadly, “I’m afraid so, Senator. Masters took pictures of his handiwork in case he ever needed leverage on you in the future. You were on the fast-track to the White House, after all.”

“No! Don’t listen to them, Marty!” the pretty redhead begged her husband desperately. “They’re bluffing! Bryson would never betray me like that.” Realizing what she had just let slip, she clapped a hand over her mouth as Martin turned to face her with dawning horror.

Lieberman cleared his throat from behind the laptop, and said distractedly, “You should pick your co-conspirators more carefully, lady. He even kept photos and hidden camera videos of the two of you having sex. _A lot_ of photos and videos.”

Masters struggled in Frank’s grip, and he cuffed him on his swollen cheek to get him to calm down. As far as Senator Gilliam was concerned, though, there was no one else in the room but him and his deceitful wife. He stared at her crocodile tears with revulsion, and his tone was confused and furious as he demanded, “Why would you do such a thing, Christine? Why didn’t you just tell me that Mali had contacted you? We could have handled this together.”

As if a switch had flipped, the tears stopped, and his wife snapped, “I was trying to protect our future, Martin. You just won the election, and the sudden appearance of your Asian whore and her kids would have killed your career before it could lead us to the White House. She threatened to go to the media if you didn’t publicly recognize her children, and bring them to America for school. I had no choice but to clean up the mess you made twelve years ago. I couldn’t let her ruin everything for us.”

Frank had never wanted to a kill a woman in his life until this moment. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the callous disregard for innocent life or the lust for power that drove people to do horrific things. Newspapers and media had declared Frank a monster for killing criminals and murderers, but he wasn’t the monster in this room. Christine Gilliam was the soulless monster, not him.

Senator Gilliam began to tremble with emotion, and Karen instinctively backed away from him. Frank’s gaze narrowed on the unstable man, and he raised his gun at the same time that the Senator pulled a small gun from his pocket and pointed it at his wife. Everyone in the room froze in place as the Senator stood slowly to his feet as he pointed the gun directly between his wife’s eyes.

Frank’s finger curled around the trigger, but he hesitated. He had promised Karen that he wouldn’t kill the Senator, and so long as he didn’t point that gun at one of them, he would keep his promise. He would not interfere with the Senator’s right to avenge the deaths of his children, no matter how shitty of a father he’d been to them. He met Jones’ gaze across the room, and she lifted her eyebrow in question. He knew she was deferring to his judgement, so he shook his head subtly to tell her to wait.

The Senator’s gun shook with his mounting fury, and his brown eyes sheened with a manic brilliance as he seethed, “You were the one that wanted the White House, not me. The only thing I have ever wanted in my life was those boys, and you took them away from me. You killed my children, Christine. That isn’t something that can be forgiven.”

Christine’s tears were real this time, and she held her manicured hands out as she cried, “Marty! Marty, please! I did it for us! I was just trying to protect you!”

Gilliam’s laughter was unhinged, and the hairs along Frank’s arms stood on end. He stiffened when the Senator swung the gun toward him, but he did not shoot him when he saw the muzzle pointed at Masters’ chest. Instinct had Frank releasing his hold on the bound security chief, and he kept his gun pointed at the Senator as he edged closer to Karen.

“Protect me? You mean, like my chief of security is supposed to do? Were you both protecting me when you were fucking each other behind my back?” Her only response was more tears, so he turned his wrathful gaze on his former employee. “You. You murdered Mali and her parents. You murdered Kasem and Rama. They were only ten and eleven years old.”

The muzzle flashed on the Senator’s gun, and his wife screamed as two patches of blood began to bloom on Master’s chest. Frank kept his gun trained on Martin Gilliam, and he pulled Karen behind him with the other, but he still did not shoot the Senator. He looked into the man’s eyes, and he saw a reflection of himself. Martin Gilliam was not done. His vengeance had not been sated.

Masters gurgled and twitched before falling silent and still in the wingback chair. Karen’s fingernails dug furrows into Frank’s arm that held her behind him, but he would not release her. He couldn’t allow her to expose herself to what was coming next. It was bad enough that she would have to bear witness to Gilliam’s justice, but he would not let her make things worse by drawing attention to herself. He couldn’t afford to speak, so he squeezed her firmly with the silent command to be still. Jessica and Lieberman didn’t need to be told; they were both like living statues as Gilliam swung the gun back on his sobbing wife.

“There goes your dream of making it to the White House, Christine. I just took it away from you like you took my boys,” Gilliam said, his tone strangely empty and cold. “Neither one of us gets what we want.”

Karen hid her face against his spine to muffle her cry as the gun barked two more times before Christine Gilliam slid to the floor in a lifeless heap. Lieberman ducked behind the relative safety of the desk, and exclaimed quietly, _“Jesus, I think I’m going to be sick.”_ Jessica Jones met Frank’s gaze once more across the room, and they shared a grim understanding that this stand-off would only end one way.

The Senator remained standing over his wife’s prostrate body with the gun still pointing at her. Frank tightened his grip on his gun and on Karen, and said quietly, “There’s only one bullet left in that gun, Senator. You have two options. You can place it on the ground and turn yourself in to the cops, or you can point it at the only person left in this room that killed your family. Those are your only options.”

Senator Gilliam raised his bleary, shattered gaze to meet Frank’s, and he knew which option Gilliam would choose. “You’re right, you know. I’m just as much to blame for their deaths as they were. I’ve got nothing left here, and I want to see my boys again.”

In slow motion, he raised the gun to his chin as Karen struggled against Frank’s hold and screamed, “Senator, no!”

The gunshot seemed like cannon fire echoing in the silence of the big house, and Karen gripped his jacket to hide her face and cry with heart-wrenching sobs as the newly-elected Senator of New York fell to the floor dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, that escalated quickly. I hadn't planned on that to happen when I began writing the chapter, but shit happens sometimes. I'm writing on the next chapter from Karen's POV next! Thank you to everyone that has commented and given kudos so freely. I love your enthusiasm, and I'm grateful for everyone who continues on this crazy journey with me. I'm having a blast, and can't wait to write the closing chapters of this part. Have a wonderful rest of the day wherever you are in the world, my friends!**


	14. Karen Takes Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Real talk: I don't know shit about forensics, police investigations, or computer hacking beyond what I've seen on TV and read in books. Let's all just assume that my logic is sound so that we can move on to the important stuff. Smut.**

It only took Karen roughly five minutes to pull herself together before she gently pushed away Frank’s supportive hold on her to take in the carnage of the room. Bryson Masters sat slumped over in his chair, his chest stained with blood, and his hands were still bound behind his back, and a gag remained stuffed in his mouth. Christine Gilliam lay face-down on the floor, her sightless eyes staring at nothing, as her expensive silk pajamas slowly soaked up the crimson pool below her. Senator Gilliam was the worst one to witness. Part of his skull was completely missing, and his handsome features were contorted in arrested agony. It was disturbing and nightmare-inducing, but it was also dangerous for the ones left remaining alive.

Karen’s mind snapped to attention, and she said abruptly, “You three need to leave. You can’t be anywhere near here when I call the police.”

Frank’s eyebrows lowered with consternation, and he replied harshly, “Absolutely not. You’re coming with us, and no one is calling the police. They’ll be discovered eventually.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Frank,” Jessica surprised her by chiming in. “We all need to get the fuck out of here. This situation is a shit show of epic proportions.”

Lieberman remained silent from his hiding place beneath the desk, and Karen could only pray that he hadn’t made good on his promise to vomit. Jessica tiptoed around the blood splatters to peek under the desk at him. “Hey, there, buddy,” she addressed him like a traumatized five-year-old. “You want to go home? We’ll stop and get you some McDonald’s on the way.”

David’s sandy curls appeared from beneath the desk, and he pushed his way to his feet before replying angrily, “Fuck you, Jessica, and fuck you, too, Frank, for bringing me into this mess. My fingerprints are all over both those laptops. I used to work for the NSA! You think they don’t have my fingerprints on file? We’re all going to jail for kidnapping and conspiracy involving a United States Senator. I can’t go to jail. Look at me! I’m not cut out to join a prison gang. My wife is going to kill me. My kids will never speak to me again.”

Everyone ignored his manic outburst as he began scrubbing the laptops with the sleeve of his coat.

Karen’s mind raced with possible scenarios and consequences, but ultimately, she didn’t really have a choice. She had to be the one to call it in. As if Jessica and David hadn’t even spoken, she turned to Frank. “No, Frank. I will go as far as Huntington Station with you, but the rest of you need to leave me behind and head back to Hell’s Kitchen. I told my editor that I was on my way here to question the Senator about his secret family, so I have an excuse to be here, but none of you do. I have a plan, Frank. With a little help from your friend, David, I think it can work.”

She could tell by the set of his full lips that it was going to be difficult to sell her idea, and he confirmed it with his reply. “You agreed to let me run this op as long as I didn’t kill the Senator, and I say that we’re all going back to the city. You’re leaving with us, and we’re all heading back to Hell’s Kitchen as if nothing happened. Let the authorities sort it out. Forensics will show that it was the Senator that pulled the trigger all three times. They won’t be looking for any of us.”

Karen’s frazzled nerves snapped, and she slashed her hand through the air. “No. The op is over, and now it’s my turn to take over. I promised my editor the scoop of the year, and I’m going to deliver it even if it means that I have to be questioned by the police. I’m going to do this with or without your help, but I would rather have your support in this. Trust me, Frank. I can make this work.”

She and Frank locked gazes in a battle of wills as Jessica and David watched with amusement and concern. She refused to back down from his intimidating glare, and he eventually sighed, and said, “At least tell me about your plan first, doll. I’m not agreeing to anything until I hear it.”

The tension left Karen’s shoulders, and she cleared the first hurdle in her plan. “It all hinges on David and if he can do what I’m asking of him. The only obstacle to my plan at this point is explaining how I arrived at the house to find them all dead. The most logical explanation is that I arrived at Huntington Station and took a taxi here. The problem is that I didn’t buy a train ticket. If David can work his magic to provide me with that part of my alibi, then I can work around the rest.” She didn’t want to see doubt in Frank’s expression, so she turned to his friend. “David, is there any possible way to create a digital record of me taking the train after the fact?”

David snapped out of his sulky mood, and she could see the spark of challenge flare in his soft blue eyes. He sat behind the Senator’s laptop, and his fingers flew over the keys as he replied crisply, “Let me pull up the train schedule.” Karen waited several seconds before he spoke again, “Yes, this would work. A train left Penn Station for Huntington at 8:42 pm, and it’s due to arrive in less than half an hour. I have a contact in Rising Tide that works for the Department of Transportation, and he owes me a huge favor. I won’t be able to manufacture you a ticket, but if the police check the records, they will see the purchase on your bank statement. I’ll need your debit card.”

Without hesitation, she dug in her purse to retrieve her wallet and handed it over to Jessica. Jessica did not seem pleased about her plan, but she grudgingly dug the debit card out of the wallet and handed it to the busy hacker. Turning back to Frank, she continued, “You can drop me off close to Huntington Station, and I’ll call a taxi to bring me back here so I can discover the crime scene and call it in. It will work. I know it will.”

Frank’s jaw clenched and his eyes were hard, but she could see him thinking over the merits of her plan. That didn’t mean he was giving in easily, though. “That’s all well and good, doll, but that don’t explain how Masters got here, or why his face is busted to shit. All they have to do is look at the Senator’s knuckles to know that he wasn’t the one that hit him.” He held his own right hand up as evidence, and Karen flinched at the purpling skin and abrasions on his knuckles.

Shit. She hadn’t thought of that, but there was no time left to finesse her way around it. She used every bit of her legal knowledge from her time with Matt and Foggy to predict the best possible outcome, and finally replied, “It doesn’t matter. Take the binding and gag with you, dispose of them, and let the police try to sort it out for themselves. I’m thinking they won’t waste too much time on him. They’re going to have their hands full for a long time trying to sort out the media feeding frenzy over the Senator and his dead family. Even if they manage to find your DNA in his wounds and match it to you, the only thing they can prove is that you hit him when he was still alive. The simple explanation is that you approached him for a job, and the interview went badly. End of story.”

As he absorbed her reasoning, Jessica muttered, “You scare me sometimes, K. Just sayin’.”

Frank took a deep breath, and let it out with a heavy sigh. “God dammit, Page,” he swore as he unsheathed a knife from his belt. Without another word, he carefully cut away the gag and phone cord binding the dead man’s hands, and managed to retrieve them without disturbing the body. He stuffed the evidence in his coat pocket, and turned to Jessica. “Did you touch anything when you went through the house, Jones?”

Jessica quirked her lips in thought and rocked back on her heels with her hands jammed into her coat pockets. “Nope. Just the dead Mrs. over there. Unlike you, I tend to keep my weapons holstered until I need them,” she taunted him by flapping her coat with her pocketed hands.

Frank paused to flip her the bird before he moved on to David. “Lieberman, how much time do you need to finish up, wipe your tracks and fingerprints, and be out the door?”

David didn’t reply for several tense seconds as his fingers danced across the keys like Fred Astaire on speed. Abruptly, his fingers stopped, and he hit the Enter button with emphasis. “Done. Give me two minutes to wipe my digital footprint, and thirty seconds to wipe my physical ones.”

“You have exactly two minutes, so I suggest you work fast,” Frank ordered ruthlessly. “Jones, make yourself useful and wipe down Masters’ computer while Sloth works on the Senator’s.”

David shot him a venomous glare, but his fingers raced over the keys twice as fast as Jessica plucked her ridiculously big scarf from around her neck. “God, you are such an egotistical dick,” he muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Amen to that, Letterman,” Jessica seconded as she polished Masters’ laptop to a high shine.

Frank tipped his head toward the French doors, and Karen followed him wordlessly out the doors. They walked in silence toward the car for several minutes before he finally spoke. “I’m not gonna lie to you, doll. I don’t like this. It goes against every instinct but one to let you involve yourself further in this clusterfuck situation. I know your career is important to you, but your safety is important to me.”

Her throat swelled, and tears sprang easily to her eyes at his blunt announcement. “If you think it’s such a bad idea, then why are you helping me?”

They came to a halt by the front passenger door of their car, but Frank didn’t reach out to reassure her with a touch. She couldn’t see much of his face in the pale light of the half moon, and her confidence wavered as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Because the one instinct that’s screaming the loudest is the one that says to trust you. You’ve proven yourself to me too many times for me to start doubting you now. If you say this is going to work, then it will,” he answered simply.

The lump in her throat swelled, but this time, the tears filling her eyes were from happiness. “Thank you, Frank. Just...thank you.” Her laughter sounded more like sobs as she moved to throw her arms around him, but he stopped her by stepping away.

Her laughter died, and her tears dried, as her arms dropped limply to her sides. His tone was soothing when he explained, “I don’t want to take the chance of transferring blood by touching you. I kept you shielded from blood spray behind my back, and the cops will want to test your clothing to rule you out of the crime scene.”

Her spirits lifted once again, and she replied smugly, “See? This is why we make excellent partners.”

Frank skirted around her, and reached for the handle of the door. He opened it for her, and Karen slid inside obligingly as he drawled, “You said the same thing Tuesday night when I made you come three times in less than an hour.”

Karen’s bark of laughter was cut off by the door closing, and she watched him with greedy eyes as he rounded the car to his own door. Before he could even touch the handle, Jessica and David jogged around the curve, and they hurried to join them in the car. David was out of breath and winded, but Jessica looked almost bored as she fastened her seatbelt.

Frank eased the car down the driveway with the headlights off as she gave her report. “Liverman erased his tracks, I erased his prints, and I left the door open after wiping both handles. You’re welcome.”

Karen was starting to get excited as pieces of her plan fell into place. She didn’t feel a bit guilty about hiding her involvement in exposing what Christine Gilliam had done, or about continuing to expose it to her readers. The only way to truly defeat evil was bringing it into the light. Mali, her parents, and her children deserved to have their story told, and Karen was determined to be the one to do it.

“Thank you, Jess,” Karen replied sincerely. “I just need one more favor.”

Jessica groaned, but when they reached the security gate to the neighborhood, she willingly got out of the car, and bent the cast iron frame work so that it would not close and lock behind them. As Frank drove slowly and carefully back into town, Jessica reminded her, “You owe me now. Next Thursday, drinks are on you at Josie’s, and I don’t mean the swill she serves, either. I want the good shit, a whole bottle of it, and you’re responsible for getting me back home and holding my hair until I pass out.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to expose my impressionable 12-year-old daughter to you,” David said to her moments before he yelled, “Ow! That fucking hurt, you asshole!”

Frank shook his head as he parked the car a block from the station. “See what you’re leaving me with here, doll?” he asked, pointing his thumb at the backseat as he killed the ignition. His smile faded as he turned to face her, and he leaned in close to murmur, “Do what you gotta do, and get your ass back to Hell’s Kitchen, you hear me?”

Karen blinked back the ever-present tears, and resolved to save them for her call to 911. She offered him a wobbly smile, and replied, “I’ll text you as soon as soon as I’m on my way back, but I’ll have to report to Ellison at the paper before I do anything else. It may be tomorrow evening before I see you again.”

Frank leaned in carefully until their lips met in a brief, clinging kiss. “That’s right. I’m cooking dinner for you, and three hours later, I’m going to try for four in one hour. That’s worth waiting for.”

Their bubble of intimacy burst when David’s voice said from the backseat, “Jesus, I think I’m going to be sick again.”

“You and me both, Lamberg. You and me both,” Jessica added, disgust coloring her tone.

Karen ignored them, and opened the door to exit the car. She paused one last time to look at each of them and said, “I’ll see you all soon. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Frank leaned down and ordered, “Be safe, be careful, and be smart. That’s all I ask.”

Karen smiled and nodded, afraid to say anything else for fear she would cry. She closed the door, and walked toward Huntington Station without looking back. Even though she was moving forward by herself, she knew she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Man, I love Karen. She is wicked intelligent and has a set of balls the size of Jupiter. I'm already eagerly looking forward to starting the next chapter. It will be from Frank's POV as he waits anxiously to hear from Karen. Hope you're enjoying the story arc as much as I am! Thank you again to all the amazeballs people that have taken the time to chat with me. I've got nothing but love to give, so it's always a welcome surprise to get it back. See you soon!**


	15. Frank Covers His Tracks

Frank’s POV

 

It killed him to leave Karen behind in Huntington, but he did it anyway. Logically, he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but there was nothing logical about his feelings for her. It wasn’t just his protective instincts that reacted to her; it was a whole host of other emotions, too. Some of them he could identify easily such as lust, humor, respect, and trust, but there were others that were too new and confusing for him sort out. Karen Page was unlike any woman he’d ever known, and his past experiences with relationships had felt nothing like this.

Frank could be brutally honest with himself, so he would be the first to admit that his view of women was archaic and borderline misogynistic. It wasn’t that he thought they weren’t equal to men, far from it. He had been taught to revere and cherish them from the time he was a kid by the smack of his father’s knuckles and the devotion of his mother’s love. He’d always had a blind spot when it came to women, and he’d paid for his weakness more than a few times. He’d placed Maria on a pedestal from the first date, and no matter how many times she'd fallen off it, he had put her right back on it. She’d known that she had the upper hand in their relationship, and she hadn’t hesitated to use that power to manipulate him with his blessing.

Karen was different. Every time he tried to put her in her rightful place above himself, she kicked her pedestal down until they were eye to eye. She didn’t flinch from honesty, and she didn’t back down from confrontation, and most importantly, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. She trusted him more than Frank trusted himself, and that terrified him. What if he failed her again? What if he made the wrong decision, and she suffered the consequences for it? What if he got her killed like Maria and the kids? Just the thought of it made his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel until the abrasions on his right fist split back open and blood beaded the surface.

A quiet voice from the backseat yanked him out of his dark thoughts. “She’s going to be fine, you know. Karen’s like a cat; she always lands on her feet.”

Frank snorted as he eased the car into the congested Manhattan traffic. “You telling me you feel good about leaving her behind back there?” he asked just as quietly in order not to wake Lieberman.

“Fuck, no,” she replied bluntly. “I hate it just as much as you do, but she doesn’t need my strength or your skill to keep her safe. She does that all on her own.”

His lips quirked at the corners as he replied wryly, “Then why the fuck does she keep us around, Jones?”

Jessica’s tone dripped with irreverence when she answered, “I know why she keeps you around, Big Dick Frankie. As for me? I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

Frank shook his head as he pulled the car to the curb in front of Jessica’s building on W 46th Street. “Let me know if you do, because it’s a mystery to me, too.”

Jessica unbuckled her seatbelt, and stretched her arms out wide. She narrowly avoided smearing Lieberman’s nose in the process, but he was too busy snoring from his open mouth to notice. She dug her hand in her jeans pocket, and pulled out two wrinkled, dirty business cards. She thrust one toward him between the seats, and said, “This has my number on it. Let me know as soon as you hear from her.”

Frank tipped his head in acknowledgement as he watched her tuck the other card down the front of Lieberman’s pants. “Tell Linkletter to text me about dinner on Sunday. There better not be anything green on that table.”

“Will do,” he replied easily as she opened the door to leave. Before she could shut the door, though, Frank called out, “Hey, Jones. You did good tonight. Let’s never do it again.”

Her bright teeth gleamed in the darkness with her smile, and she flipped him the bird before closing the door and walking away. When he was assured that she made it inside, Frank pulled away from the curb, and headed toward his own apartment. He still had business to take care of on his end to help Karen achieve her plan. That meant that he needed to get rid of every bit of trace evidence on himself and in Curtis’ car. His buddy would just have to wait another day to get his wheels back.

As he pulled into the closest parking garage near his building, he pulled his phone out and dialed a familiar number. It only rang twice before the call was answered. “Hey, it’s me. I got another job for you, Con.”

Connie’s husky voice filled his ear as she replied, _“That was fast even for you, my friend. Is this new job related to the one you’re doing for me?”_

“Yeah, that’s been resolved, and there’s no ties linking it back to you. Buy a copy of the _Bulletin_ tomorrow and read Karen’s article. I think you’ll find it illuminating,” he answered her cryptically. “Can you bring a small crew to my place? I got a car that needs a full detail job, and some laundry service for you, too.”

The line went silent for a long moment before she said, _“Are the ones responsible dead?”_

“All three of them,” Frank confirmed grimly.

 _“Good,”_ she spat venomously. _“In that case, I’ll do this job for free. That makes us square, Frank. We’ll be there in half an hour.”_

Frank turned off the ignition, and roused Lieberman from the backseat. They walked in silence to Frank’s building, and once they were safely inside his apartment, he ushered his friend straight to the bathroom. “Strip down to your tighty-whities, and place everything inside this garbage bag,” he told him, thrusting a large, black trash bag through the door. “You can have the first shower, and I’ll leave your overnight bag by the door.”

Lieberman looked concerned as he started peeling off his jacket to stuff it in the plastic bag. “You’re not going to burn them, are you? I really like this sweater. Sarah gave it to me for our anniversary two years ago.”

Frank sighed heavily, and replied, “No, I’ve got a friend that can clean everything for us, but maybe you should burn your underwear. I’m pretty sure you shit yourself at least half a dozen times tonight.”

Lieberman didn’t dignify that with a response other than slamming the door in his face. Frank chuckled as he made his way to his bedroom to grab a change of clothes for himself. As he dropped Lieberman’s duffle bag by the bathroom door, he heard his friend call out, “Why is Jessica’s business card in my underwear? Did she molest me while I was sleeping?”

“Yeah, I told her you said you were hung like a moose, and she wanted to see for herself,” Frank answered back sarcastically.

Lieberman called out a few obscenities as the pipes groaned with rushing water to the shower. Frank waited patiently for his turn, and when his friend stepped out of the bathroom, he slipped inside to perform his own ablutions. By the time he was showered and dressed, a light knock sounded on his apartment door. He gathered up the garbage bag of their clothing and shoes, and opened the door to greet Connie.

Once inside, Frank introduced her to Lieberman. After the niceties had concluded, she looked Frank up and down with a critical eye. “Not a single bullet hole or wound besides the scratch on your cheek and busted knuckles. Not bad, Frank.”

He tossed Curtis’ car keys to her, and she caught them with her remaining hand. “You should see the other guys,” he retorted before his expression sobered. “You want me to brief you on the mission? It will be all over the news in the morning.”

She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head in the negative. “Nah, you said it was resolved, and that’s good enough for me. This way I’ll have something to discuss with Gabe over breakfast other than the newest scandal courtesy of our shithole POTUS.”

Frank and Lieberman both laughed at that, and he gave Connie a quick rundown of what needed to be cleaned and replaced, and explained that the phone cord and gag should be destroyed. She assured him that she would set fire to them personally, that her crew would install new carpet in the trunk, and that it would be returned the next day along with their clothes and shoes. After a warm hug, Connie hefted the heavy garbage bag over her shoulder, and left the apartment.

Lieberman excused himself to call his wife, and Frank was left alone and restless. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he heard from Karen, so he cleared off his coffee table, and spread out his guns and knives for cleaning. Even though his hands performed the familiar, rote actions of breaking down each gun and cleaning the pieces, his mind was miles away in Huntington. It had been over two hours since he’d left her behind to face the police on her own, and his phone still hadn’t rung with a call or a text message. He didn’t know if that was good news or bad news, and as each minute ticked by without hearing from her, he began to think it was bad news.

At 2 a.m. in the morning, Lieberman was snoring on the couch, and Frank had run out of weapons to clean. He paced across the small expanse of his kitchen floor as he sipped at his third cup of coffee in between checking his phone every thirty seconds to make sure it was charged and had full signal. At 3 a.m., he started pulling up the train schedules to see when the next train to Huntington left Penn Station. At 4 a.m., he was fully dressed and armed, and was just about to walk out the door to track her down when his phone pinged with an incoming text message.

 

Karen:   _Sorry it took so long to contact you. I had to be interviewed by everyone from the local police all the way up to Homeland Security, but they finally released me. I’m on my way back to the city, and Ellison will be waiting for me at the station. Put your arsenal away, and get some rest. I’ll call you later in the day._

 

Relief, pure and sweet, swept over him, and he hurried to reply.

 

Frank:   _I wasn’t worried in the least. In fact, you woke me up. Get your shit done, and go home to sleep. I’ll see you tonight, doll._

 

 After he sent a quick text to Jones, Frank finally stripped down to his boxer briefs, and collapsed in the bed. He paused to inhale the fading scent of Karen’s shampoo on his pillow before he closed his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Quick little chapter before we move on to the good stuff....SMUT! Woo hoo! Looks like there may only be a few more chapters in this part, friends. I'm having so much fun with this story, and I am so grateful to all of you that have taken the time to leave kudos and comments. Y'all are the bee's knees!
> 
> P.S. If you didn't know this by now, I live in the U.S. I didn't mention him by name, but I did take the liberty of throwing shade at the President. He is a racist, misogynistic, moronic, and embarrassing excuse for a leader. Please don't paint all Americans with the same sickly orange brush as our man-baby POTUS. The vast majority of us don't like him, either.
> 
> P.S.S. I keep forgetting to mention this, but I'm on Tumblr under the same pseud. Feel free to follow me, but I'm not on there much. It scares me.**


	16. Karen Fades to Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning! UDS (unnecessarily detailed smut) ahead! You're welcome.**

By the time Karen made it back home, it was past noon on Saturday. She was exhausted, bleary-eyed, hungry, and overwhelmed. She wanted nothing more in the world than to take a hot shower, brush her teeth, and fall into a coma, but there were still other things that needed to be done before she could accomplish her goal. First, she stopped by Mrs. Zielmanski’s apartment. After ten minutes of her landlady exclaiming over the bombshell report that Karen had typed up and posted to the _Bulletin_ ’s website regarding the shocking deaths of the Senator, his wife, his security officer, and his secret family, Karen was finally able to get a word in edgewise. She explained that her boyfriend, Pete Castiglione, would be coming over that evening, and would she be so kind as to let him into her apartment? After another fifteen minutes of answering twenty questions about her love life, Karen finally escaped up the steps to her own door.

Once inside, she shed her coat and purse, and reluctantly retrieved her cell phone to send a few texts. She ignored the dozens of voicemails and emails from other news outlets requesting an interview, and sent a quick text to Frank to let him know she was home, and that he could come over any time that evening, and to stop at her landlady’s apartment for the keys. He replied quickly with an exhortation for her to quit texting him and go to sleep, because they could talk it about later. Next, she texted Jessica.

 

Karen: _I finally made it home. Did you read my article online? There will be a bigger one in the paper tomorrow morning. Ellison wouldn’t let me leave until it was perfect, but he’s already promised me a raise!_

 

By the time she replied, Karen had stripped down to her underwear, and was just about to step into the shower.

 

Jessica: _its prob not enuf $$ tell him you want more trish says she wants an exclusive interview cuz shes ur friend i told her to ask u herself get some sleep call me 2moro_

Karen chuckled and shook her head. Jessica’s texting skills left a lot to be desired. Before stepping into the steaming hot shower, she spared another thirty seconds to shoot a quick text to Trish Walker to tell her that she would be happy to give her an exclusive interview on _Trish Talks_ the following afternoon. After receiving her enthusiastic reply, Karen turned her phone off, and finally allowed herself to slip beneath the punishing needles of water. She sighed heavily, and had to fight off a wave of fatigue in order to properly clean herself. She barely made it out of the shower, brushed her teeth, and pulled on comfortable pajamas before collapsing into the bed.

Once she was there, though, sleep would not come. Even though her eyelids were heavy, and it felt like grains of sand were coating her eyeballs, she could not will sleep to claim her. Instead, her brain decided to relive every moment of the past 24 hours in gory, technicolor detail. Her eardrums still rang with the blasts from the Senator’s gun, her head pounded with all the questions she’d answered for the police, and she could still smell the pungent aroma of blood and death in her nostrils. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and forget it all for a few hours, but her body wouldn’t let her.

Her plan had worked remarkably well considering the circumstances. After her call to 911, the Huntington police and emergency crews had shown up en masse, and she had been taken to the station for questioning. It hadn’t taken long for the FBI and Department of Homeland Security to show up, and she’d suffered through no less than four interviews before they’d been satisfied enough to let her leave. By the time she’d made it back to Manhattan, the news had already picked up on the Senator’s death, but no one had the full story except for Karen. Ellison had nearly pissed himself with excitement, and he and Karen had spent several hours with their heads together as she’d written up her exclusive report on the website, and the longer, more detailed account for Sunday morning’s paper edition. He’d been leery of trusting the data from Masters’ computer that David had sent her as “Micro” from Rising Tide, but ultimately, he’d given the green light on exposing the deaths of Mali, her parents, and her children. It had been a difficult piece to write, but she was satisfied that they had been given the proper justice.

She didn’t know how long she’d lain in bed rethinking every detail, but she must have fallen asleep at some point. Her dreams were full of blood, dead bodies, and Frank. Eventually, though, the gruesome elements of her dreams faded until the only thing left was him. She dreamed that he was in bed beside her, and that he was holding her close as she slept. She dreamed that he was cooking in her kitchen, and the sounds of pots and pans rattling filled her imagination. She could even smell garlic, tomato sauce, and toasting bread perfuming the air, and her mouth began to water.

It took her stomach grumbling with complaint to finally wake her up. Her bedroom was dark, and a quick glance at the clock told her it was 7:23 p.m. She was just about to drift off to sleep again when she realized that she really could smell garlic and tomatoes, and there really was someone moving around in her kitchen. _Frank!_ The realization came to her like a surprise gift, and she slid out of the bed to make her way to the bathroom before she greeted him.

As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she paused to watch him unnoticed for a moment. His broad, muscled back was to her, and she admired the way his jeans hugged the firm, rounded globes of his ass. The sleeves of his tee shirt were pushed up on his forearms, and he was chopping vegetables for a salad with an efficiency that spoke of long practice. There were two more pots simmering on the stove, and the table was set with dishes, a burning candle, and a bottle of wine.

She couldn’t resist the magnetic pull of her true north, so she padded across the floor until she was right behind him. She slid her arms around his waist to hug him, and stole a slice of cucumber from the salad bowl before he could stop her. She popped it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed it, and said, “Smells delicious in here. Dinner smells good, too.”

Frank’s back moved beneath her cheek with his chuckle, and he put down the knife to turn and greet her with a kiss. “I was just getting ready to come wake you up, Snoring Beauty. Dinner is just about ready.”

Karen’s hands mapped the terrain of his taut abdomen, and she hummed, “You sure it can’t wait for another fifteen minutes? We can do a lot in fifteen minutes.”

He captured her wrists lightly, and placed them firmly around his waist. That was just fine with her, because the territory back there was every bit as interesting as the front. Her hands wandered down over his ass as he replied with a laugh, “Oh, no. You’re not changing the rules on me just to suit you. We’re having dinner, watching your superhero show for three hours, and then we get to have sex.”

Karen rubbed herself shamelessly against him, and her nipples beaded against the thin cotton of her tank top. “I’m hungry for something else right now. Dinner can wait.”

Frank huffed an exasperated chuckle, and pried her hands away from his ass. He spun her on her heel, and gently urged her toward the table with a swat on her behind. “Get your sexy ass over there, and pour the wine. My spaghetti al pomodoro waits for no one.”

Karen grudgingly did as she was told, and they fell into easy conversation as he pulled the garlic bread from the oven, and she poured the wine. They worked together to bring the food to the table as if they had done it a hundred times, and they ate and drank wine while she began telling him everything that had happened since he’d left her behind in Huntington. She told him about the questioning and how she had explained her presence at the Senator’s house, and she told him about her article that was due to be the headline of tomorrow’s newspaper. He listened attentively, asked pertinent questions, and interjected relevant curses in between topping off her wine glass and encouraging her to eat more. Before she knew it, dinner was over, and she was pleasantly full and a little tipsy from all the wine.

After the dishes were cleared, and the leftovers were put away, they made their way to her small couch, and she snuggled into his side to begin their mini-marathon of _The Flash_. She could tell he wasn’t really into it, but he didn’t complain about it...much. His commentary was amusing, and Karen found herself laughing out loud at his observations.

“You’re telling me that scrawny kid is a superhero? He looks like a stiff wind could blow him over.”

“Wait a minute. He’s in love with his adopted sister that he grew up with in the same house? The censors allow this shit on TV?”

“Why didn’t they make a show about the funny Hispanic kid? He’s a fucking brilliant weapons designer. That would be way more interesting than a guy in red spandex running around the place.”

“Come on. They really expect you to believe that a man can transform into poisonous gas? I mean, we’ve seen some crazy shit happen in the real world, but this? They ask too much.”

By the time the third episode was over, Karen’s head was in his lap, and Frank’s arms were spread across the back of the couch. The television went off, leaving them in semi-darkness, and she rolled to her back so she could gaze up at him. “Well, your punishment is officially done. Whatever will we do now?” she asked, her tone heavy with innuendo.

Frank’s right hand moved down to land on the exposed patch of her lower stomach between her rucked-up tank top and drooping pajama pants. His calloused palm skimmed under her shirt and over her breast, and he pinched and rolled her nipple until she gasped. “Now, I’m going to see if I can beat my record. Starting right now.”

She was hoping he would say that. Karen’s stomach turned concave as his big hand reversed direction to sweep over her abdomen and beneath her pajama bottoms. His fingers slid under the elastic on her panties, and continued their journey until he found the hot, slick center of her. He was in no hurry as he dipped and swirled through the slippery lips of her sex before retreating to tease and rub at her clit. Karen’s hips lifted from the couch with impatience, but he firmly pushed them back down before resuming his unhurried pace. There were no words spoken between them, just unbroken eye contact that drew her in and held her captive to his hooded gaze.

Her fingernails dug into the fabric of the couch, and she could feel her body growing tighter with mounting pleasure. She whimpered and begged him with her gaze to go harder and faster as Frank’s fingertips gently coaxed her body to respond. He rumbled, “There’s no rush, doll. We got all night.”

Karen forced her body to relax into his drugging touch, and she surfed the gentle waves of ecstasy that he plucked from her body. She had no idea how long they remained locked in their intimate cocoon with his fingers playing her pussy like a finely-tuned guitar, but eventually, the pleasure inside her swelled and grew until she could no longer contain it. Her climax washed over her like a benediction, and her lips spilled his name like a prayer to a benevolent god. Even as she coasted on the ebbing tides of her orgasm, his fingers did not still. Instead, they grew faster and he applied more pressure until she was bucking against his hand and panting for breath.

“Frank, I can’t! It’s too soon!” she pleaded with him even as her body followed him willingly back up the to the heights of bliss.

His free hand drifted down to brush the sweaty hair away from her face as he replied roughly, “Yes, you can. Stop fighting it.”

She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate enough to reply, because his fingers were relentless in their task. This time, her climax stole her breath with its savagery as he ripped it from deep within her by the merciless pressure of his fingers. She doubled over and sobbed as she crested and peaked over and over again until she begged him to stop. Almost reluctantly, Frank withdrew his soaking hand from her panties, and she hid her face against his leg as her body throbbed and pounded with aftershocks.

Her eyes were closed, and she luxuriated in the brush of his knuckles against her cheek. Her heart thumped loudly against her ribs, and her muscles were limp, but her body was not sated. Her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as she lifted herself from his lap, but she had to get rid of the obstacle of their clothing. Her hands were impatient as she tugged his tee shirt off his head before she attacked the button of his jeans.

In no time, she had him naked, and she slid off his lap to kneel on the carpet between his feet. He watched her through heavy eyelids as she pulled her tank top over her head, and shimmied out of her pajama bottoms and panties. She pushed his knees wide to make room for her shoulders, and zeroed in on his hard, leaking cock that jumped in anticipation of her touch. Her mouth watered to taste him, and she wasted no more time in lowering her lips to kiss and lick a path along the thick, velvet length of him as her hands cupped, rolled, and tugged at his heavy sack.

Frank hissed between his teeth as she finally took the fat crown into her mouth, and he gathered her long, buttery tresses in his fist for a better view. His essence exploded across her taste buds, and she sucked and lathed the head of his cock for every drop. She tried to take more of him into her throat, but he was too big. Instead, she used her hand to glide up and down the shaft as she licked and bobbed up and down on the crown until his fist tightened against her scalp, and he groaned, “Jesus, your mouth should be registered as a lethal weapon, doll.”

She took him all the way back in her throat several more times before he used his grip on her hair to tug her away from her treat. She licked her swollen lips to capture every drop of him as he helped her climb back on the couch to straddle his lap. She wound her arms around his neck, and he dove into her mouth to lick and nip at her lips as he lined himself up with her slick entrance. They moaned into each other’s mouths as she sank down on his shaft until he could go no further, and Karen rotated her hips to accommodate herself to his size.

Frank’s big hands traveled around her waist and over the mounds of her ass, and he gripped and lifted her until she began to slide up and down on him. She grabbed on to the back of the couch, and used her leverage to take over the effort of riding him, and she lifted herself until he was able to capture a puckered nipple between his lips. He sucked, nipped, and squeezed her breasts as she panted his name in his ear. “Frank, God! You feel so good,” she crooned as he thrust himself up into her slick channel. “Fuck me, Frank. Take me, make me yours.”

He growled against her neck, and his arms tightened like bands around her waist as he hammered himself deep inside her until she wailed. He grunted with frustration, and he maneuvered her body until she was sprawled face-down across the couch cushions with her ass in the air. He wasted no time in sinking his cock back inside the slick, puffy lips of her pussy, and he used his handholds on her hips to slam himself into her over and over again. Karen’s cries of pleasure/pain were muffled into the pillows as he bottomed out inside her with snarled curses, and resounding smacks against the cushion of her ass only made her wilder for more.

“God dammit, Karen,” he panted as he fucked her with punishing thrusts. “You make me fucking crazy.”

She slammed her hips backward until she could practically feel him in her throat, and panted, “Show me.”

He snarled and pounded into her without mercy or caution, and Karen screamed into the couch as she shattered into a climax that cleaved her in two with equal parts of agony and ecstasy. Filthy curses fell from his lips as he snapped his hips against the cushion of her ass until he stiffened and came inside her with sharp thrusts as he poured himself out into her womb. Her body was a mass of conflicting messages and emotions as he carefully pulled his softening cock from her abused pussy, and she sobbed at the loss of him. She could feel him running his fingers through her dripping lips, and he scooped his come up to push it back inside her.

His hands were gentle and considerate as he scooped her up into his arms to carry her back to her bedroom, and she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She knew tears were leaking from beneath her eyelashes, but she couldn’t seem to stop them. Frank was quiet as he lay her down in the bed, and he crawled in beside her and pulled her to his chest. The tears continued to pool under cheek as he rubbed his hand up and down her spine with soothing motions.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, doll,” he rumbled several minutes later. “It won’t happen again.”

That brought her eyes wide open, and she struggled to brace herself on her elbow as she looked down into his shadowed features. The tears continued to fall from her eyes unchecked, but her tone was strong and firm when she replied, “You didn’t hurt me, Frank. I’m not crying because I’m in pain. I’m crying because you _healed_ me.” She picked his hand up and placed it over her heart before she continued, “You gave me exactly what I needed to let go of the horror and stress over the past 24 hours, and you replaced it with pleasure and care. I’m crying because no one has ever done that for me before. Just you.”

Frank didn’t reply, but he freed her hand from her grasp and brought it up to cradle her jaw in his palm. His thumb wiped away the salty tracks on her cheek before he pulled her down to his lips for a slow, measured kiss. This only made her tears flow faster, and her heart swelled with the unspoken feelings that clamored to be spoken, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

He settled her back to her resting place against his heart, and they lay in the darkness of her room in comfortable silence. Eventually, Karen’s tears dried, and her eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. As she was drifting off to sleep, she murmured sleepily, “Did you mean what you said to David? Am I your woman, Frank?”

His body moved, and he arranged them until her back was plastered to his front with his arm over her waist and his nose buried in the hollow behind her ear. His voice was little more than a whisper, but she heard him loud and clear when he replied, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. You’re mine as long as you’ll let me have you.”

Karen’s lips lifted in a soft smile, and she replied dreamily as her consciousness faded to black, “Good, because you’re mine, too, and I’m never letting you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Oh, my goodness! I can't believe this story is about to come to an end! This was the last chapter in this part featuring Karen and Frank, but I have one more bonus chapter for you guys. The final chapter will be from Jessica Jones' POV as she has dinner with Lieberman's family. Hilarity and shenanigans will ensue. 
> 
> Friends Star and Roza, I hope you were satisfied by this offering of smut. Technically, there were only three orgasms, but I think you could count the second one a few more times. ;) **


	17. Jessica Comes to Dinner

Jessica’ POV

 

It was Sunday evening at 6:30 pm, and Jessica found herself standing at the front door of a suburban house on the outskirts of the city. In her left hand, she held a bottle of wine that Karen had suggested she bring with her as a hostess gift, and hanging from her right shoulder was a laptop case with David Lieberman’s computer in it. She really didn’t want to be standing there at all, but once again, her fucking soft spot for kids had suckered her into it. She had tried not to get involved in the personal life of Frank Castle’s friend, but the brilliant computer hacker had somehow managed to weasel his way into her select group of friends. So far, she could count them on one hand, and that was five fingers too many.

The door opened, surprising her because she hadn’t rung the doorbell, and David Lieberman himself regarded her warily from behind the glass storm door. “Have you made up your mind if you’re coming inside or not? You’ve been standing on my front porch for ten minutes.”

Jessica lifted the bottle of wine, and replied, “I was just considering bailing on dinner and drinking this bottle of wine instead. You’re welcome to join me, but you better not backwash.”

David opened the door, and held it wide for her walk inside. “You mean there’s still wine in that bottle? I figured you were just looking for a place to throw away the empty.”

Jessica handed him the wine and his laptop case, and proceeded to unwind her big, fluffy scarf and slide out of her leather jacket. “I agreed I would show up sober, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay that way.” She paused to crack her neck and shake off her nerves, and said grimly, “Let’s get this show on the road, Lannister. I’m starving.”

David shook his head and led the way down the hall toward the kitchen as he muttered, “This is going to be a disaster. What the fuck was I thinking?”

As they made their way through the house, Jessica studied the conventionally domestic surroundings. The Liebermans’ home was furnished with tasteful, matching furniture and decorations, and family pictures adorned the walls and tables. The air was perfumed with the scent of roasting meat and vegetables, and her mouth watered like Pavlov’s dog. It reminded her of her own home all those years ago before her parents and brother had died in a car wreck, and she felt both comforted and uncomfortable at the same time.

As they rounded the corner into the kitchen, Jessica got her first glimpse of David’s wife, Sarah. She was a beautiful woman with long, strawberry-blonde hair pulled back from her face in a sloppy bun, and her figure was trim and shapely. Her lovely face was pulled down in a frown as she roughly chopped vegetables for a salad that Jessica wouldn’t be eating, and her body language gave off strong vibes of anger and frustration. This piqued Jessica’s curiosity, and she started to think that this dinner may be more entertaining than she had first thought.

David cleared his throat and said carefully, “Sarah, our dinner guest has arrived. I would like to introduce you to Jessica Jones. Jessica, this is my wife, Sarah.”

Sarah glanced up, and a smile stretched her lips, but it did not reach her pretty hazel eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Jessica. We’re happy you could join us for dinner tonight.”

Jessica narrowed her eyes and replied bluntly, “No, you’re not, but I appreciate the social niceties. I notice you didn’t offer to shake my hand. Did your husband warn you against it?”

Sarah blinked with shock before she stammered, “Uh, well, yes, he did. He explained that you have...a strong grip.”

Jessica patted David on the back, hard, and he stumbled into a bar stool from the force of it. As he cursed and righted himself and the stool, Jessica replied easily, “Don’t worry. I know my own strength. So does Limbaugh here, isn’t that right?”

“You said you would be polite, asshole,” he reminded her through gritted teeth.

Jessica snatched the bottle of wine, and pulled the cork out with her bare hands, and poured a generous amount into a waiting wine glass. “I said I would be polite to your family, not to you.”

Sarah looked utterly confused by their exchange, but she managed a weak smile as she said, “Dinner should be ready in just a few minutes. David, why don’t you go introduce our guest to the kids while I finish up in here?”

Before Jessica could pick up the glass of wine, David gripped her elbow and hauled her behind him and into the dining room. “You call that polite?” he hissed, his pale blue eyes sparking with temper. Jessica nodded, and he added, “Be nice to my kids. And, no cursing.”

She rolled her eyes so hard she thought they would get stuck. David called up the stairs, “Zach! Leo! Dinner is almost ready! Wash your hands, and come down!”

Jessica heard a door open before a young, female voice yelled back, “I’m not hungry!”

He sighed heavily, and called back, “I don’t care if you’re hungry. We have a special guest with us tonight. Come down and meet them!”

“Is it Pete?” she yelled, her tone highlighted with anticipation.

David turned to explain to her, “Pete is the name that Frank goes by these days.”

Jessica nodded, unimpressed, as he shouted, “No, it’s not Pete! Can you please just come down here so I can quit yelling in front of company?”

Jessica heard the girl muttering, but moments later, skinny legs appeared on the steps followed by the form of a young, pre-teen girl with her father’s dark blonde hair and her mother’s delicate features. She stomped with unnecessary force down the steps, and her lips were turned down with a petulant scowl. She refused to look at her dad as she came to a stop on the bottom step where she froze with surprise at being confronted with a stranger in her home.

“Leo,” David said, “I would like you to meet-“

“You’re Jessica Jones,” the young girl blurted, completely ignoring her father.

Jessica stuck her hand out automatically, but before Leo could take it, David smacked her hand away. Jessica shot him an annoyed look, and snapped, “Jesus, Lansbury. Do you really think I would hurt her? Don’t be such a douche nozzle.”

Leo Lieberman giggled with shocked amusement as Jessica once again offered her hand for a shake. Leo placed her small hand in hers, and Jessica shook it with extreme care. “Nice to meet you, Leo. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you.”

This made the little girl’s face light up with pleasure, and she gushed, “OMG, I can’t believe Jessica Jones is in my house! My friends are going to be so jelly! Will you take a selfie with me?”

Jessica agreed readily, even though she personally hated having pictures of herself floating around, while David grumpily stomped up the stairs in search of his missing son. She was a little overwhelmed by the non-stop questions and pictures from David’s daughter, but the girl was sweet and clearly in the throes of misplaced heroine worship.

By the time David returned with an angry, young teenage boy, Jessica and Leo were sitting at the dining room table while the girl talked her head off about Captain America, Iron Man, and someone that called himself “Spider-Man.” She wasn’t sure why Leo Lieberman was grouping her in with such famous superheroes. Jessica was nothing like those people. Sure, she was really strong and could jump pretty high up in the air, but she was just a private investigator. There was no way that Stark and his motley crew of Avengers would ever deign to notice someone like her, much less ask her to join their merry band of do-gooders. Thank God.

In short order, Sarah appeared with dishes full of food, and David jumped to his feet to help her bring them to the table. There was a mouth-watering pot roast with potatoes and carrots, salad, dinner rolls, and brown gravy, and Jessica was not shy about digging into everything but the salad with gusto. She didn’t care that the tension between the family members was palpable, or that everyone seemed to be ignoring David who tried desperately to act like everything fine. Zach Lieberman was suitably unimpressed by their dinner guest, and slouched in his chair at the table without saying anything more than an occasional grunt to a direct question. Sarah appeared to be having only wine for dinner, and Leo refused to talk to anyone else but Jessica. She just wanted to eat her food, and get the fuck out of there before she managed to make things worse.

“So, tell us, Jessica, how did you and my husband manage to meet each other?” Sarah asked as she topped off her wine glass for the third time in fifteen minutes.

Jessica finished chewing her dinner roll, and washed it down with her own glass of wine before responding, “His friend and my friend are dating each other, and they brought us in to help them solve a case they were working on. Good thing they did, too. The poor fools would have been lost without us.”

“Dad has a friend?” Zach snorted in disbelief. “Shocker.”

Sarah, choosing to ignore her son’s outburst, said, “Huh. The only friend David has left is Pete.” She blinked rapidly, and said with surprise, “Pete has a girlfriend? When did this happen?”

“It happened about a week ago, but he’s been hung up on her for months,” David replied sharply.

Hmm...there appeared to be some animosity between the happy couple in regard to good ol’ Pete. The devil on her shoulder poked her with a pitchfork, and she replied airily, “Yeah, he and Karen have been dancing around each other for awhile now, but she finally managed to snag him. He does have the most kissable lips, am I right?”

David, also well into his cups, replied churlishly, “Just ask Sarah. I’m sure she would agree with you.”

Sarah tossed her napkin angrily on the table, and exclaimed, “Oh, here we go! When are you going to stop punishing me for that, David? Honest to God, no one can beat a dead horse like you.”

The two of them erupted into what was clearly an old and favorite argument as Jessica continued to eat, and the two kids stared miserably at their plates. It didn’t take long for her to regret her impulsive decision to poke the bear, and she was not nearly drunk enough to enjoy the fireworks exploding all around her.

Just when she was about to take her life in her own hands by intervening, Leo jumped to her feet and yelled, “Stop it! All you two do is fight and argue, and I’m sick of it! I hate both of you, I hate living here, and I wish you were still dead!” As everyone stared at her shock, she turned on her heel and ran up the stairs.

Zach, clearly seeing his opportunity, added, “Yeah, and I don’t care what you say, Dad. I’m not joining the JROTC at school. I bet Pete told you that was a good idea, didn’t he? You know what? You’re both dickheads, and you can’t make me do shit.” He stood up from his chair, and followed his sister up the stairs with his feet pounding against the wood the whole way.

Two separate doors slammed, and Jessica was left in the awkward position of third wheel to a broken-down bicycle. Sarah drained the rest of her wine before she, too, stood to her feet. She wouldn’t meet Jessica’s gaze as she said woodenly, “Another stellar performance, David. Bravo.” And then, she left the room for the dubious security of the kitchen.

It wasn’t often that Jessica allowed herself to feel shame and remorse, but the heat flooding her cheeks and the desire to sink beneath the table told her that this was one of those times. David buried his face in his hands and moaned pitifully, and his voice was muffled when he said, “I don’t know why I thought I could fix the mess I made of my family. I’m sorry I brought you into this, Jessica. You’re welcome to leave, if you want. I wouldn’t blame you in the least.”

Jessica looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. Sure, David’s family was a mess before she ever walked in the door, but she definitely hadn’t helped matters by being her usual asshole self. She owed it to him to try to repair some of the damage she had unwittingly caused, so she replied, “Stop being a whiny little bitch, and man up, Lawless. Come on, if we can solve a five-person homicide-for-hire and survive a double murder/suicide, we can handle this without a problem.”

David’s laughter was mirthless when he replied, “Oh, yeah? What are you going to do besides make things worse?”

Jessica flinched internally at his accurate assessment of her skills, and replied airily, “I’m going to talk to your daughter, and you’re going to talk to your son. Put your big girl panties on, Leachman, and go talk to your kid.”

Without waiting to see if he would follow her, she stood to her feet, and headed up the stairs. She was worried that she may not find the right bedroom, but when she reached the top of the steps, she saw a closed bedroom door with a painted replica of Captain America’s shield on it. She knocked on it gently, and waited for a response.

“Go away! I don’t want to talk to you, Dad!” Leo shouted from behind the door.

Jessica didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, she twisted the knob hard until the whole thing came off in her hand, and the broken door swung open. “Oops,” she said drily as Leo goggled at her from where she sat on her bed holding her phone. Without waiting for permission, Jessica strolled inside before closing the door behind her.

The young girl watched her carefully as Jessica took her time perusing the posters on her wall before she finally flopped on the bed next to her. “So,” Jess said casually, “That escalated quickly.”

Leo shook her head, and hugged a stuffed Hulk doll to her stomach. “Not really. This has been going on for months now. All we do is fight with each other. I don’t think we know how to get along anymore.”

Jessica, for once, chose her words with caution as she replied, “You know that just because your parents fight with each other doesn’t mean that they don’t love you, right?”

Leo turned away, but not before Jessica saw the tears pooling in her dark brown eyes. “Yeah, Dad loves us so much that he let us believe he was dead for a whole year. Then, he miraculously shows back up, only to ‘die’ all over again. Do you know what if feels like to watch your dad die? I can’t seem to stop being angry at him,” she confessed, her voice wavering with tears.

God, Jessica was so bad at this shit. She was the worst possible person to try to counsel a kid, but she owed it to David to try. She cleared her throat, and said, “Actually, yeah, I know exactly what it feels like to watch my dad die. My mother and my little brother, too. We were in a car wreck when I was about your age. I was the only one that survived.” She paused to let that sink in before adding, “The only difference is that no matter how hard I prayed for them to come back to life, they never did. You got your dad back, Leo, and that really is a miracle.”

This time, the young girl didn’t bother to hide her tears as she wept into her hands. Her narrow little shoulders shook with grief and pain, and Jessica had to blink her own tears away as she patted her awkwardly on the back. Leo sobbed, “I’m just so mad at him, Jessica. All he and Mom do is fight with each other, and Zach is acting out at school, so I just stay in my room. I wish I had superpowers, too. Then, I could make them quit fighting with each other and go back to the way things used to be.”

“Superpowers are not the answer to solving your problems, Leo,” Jessica rushed to convince her. “Believe me, I’ve had first-hand experience at just how much these powers can ruin lives. I once knew a man that could force people to do whatever he wanted just by the sound of his voice, and he was a monster. You know who I think is a better role model than all these muscle-bound men with capes and tights? Your dad.”

Leo glared at her with swollen eyes and said, “You’re just saying that so I won’t be mad at him anymore.”

Jessica made a rude noise. “Please. I am the last person who will lie to you, because I remember what it was like to your age and have adults lie to my face ‘for my own good.’ You know I’m a private investigator, right?” When the girl nodded her head reluctantly, Jess continued, “Well, I’m damn good at what I do, and the first thing I did before arriving here today was to investigate your father. Did he ever explain to you why he was in hiding for a year?”

Leo shook her head in the negative. “Not really. He just keeps saying that it was to protect us, but he didn’t keep us safe from the men that came to our house and kidnapped Mom and Zach,” she explained bitterly.

Jessica nodded knowingly, and said, “Well, I think you’re old enough to understand exactly what happened. Your dad worked for the United States intelligence agency, and he uncovered an illegal operation being carried out by members of the CIA and military. They did some bad things, and killed innocent people, and your dad was brave enough to report them. That’s why they tried to kill him, Leo. He was afraid that they would come after you, your brother, and your mom, too, so he made the difficult decision to let you all think he was dead. That’s how he met Frank Castle, aka Pete. The two of them worked together to uncover this dishonest operation at great personal risk to themselves. Your dad did all this with only his wits and his computer skills. He didn’t have superpowers, or weapons like Frank, but he is every bit the hero, and he did it all knowing he may lose his family forever.”

 Tears continued to track down her face as she whispered, “I didn’t know any of that. No one ever really explained what was happening, because they thought that me and Zach were too young to understand.”

“Yeah, adults are idiots like that,” Jessica agreed.

Leo scrubbed her face and took several shuddering breaths before she said, “I’m still mad at him, though. I love my dad, and I am happy that he’s home with us again, but I don’t know how to go back to the way things used to be before...all that.”

Jessica nodded, and replied carefully, “Things will never go back to the way they used to be, Leo. That’s the sucky thing about life. The only thing we can do is keep moving forward, and try our best to be better people every day. That doesn’t mean that you can’t be angry at your dad, or yell at him when he makes you mad. You wouldn’t be a normal teenager if you didn’t fight with your parents. All I’m asking of you is to give him a chance to make things right. He loves you guys more than anything. I mean, he even managed to get me to leave the city to come here to meet you, because he thought it would make you happy. Believe me, it was not an easy task for him to accomplish, but he did it just for you.”

Leo sobbed and threw herself into Jessica’s arms, and she didn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “Thank you, Jessica. I’ll try to do better, but I don’t know if my parents will survive this. They never stop fighting with each other.”

Jessica gently disengaged herself and reached in her pocket to pull out one of her tattered business cards to hand to the girl. “That’s all I ask, Leo. As for your parents? You can’t control how they act; you can only control how you react. This is my private number, and you can call me any time you need to talk to someone. If I don’t answer right away, I promise I will get back to you as soon as possible, okay?”

The girl nodded tearfully, and gave her one last hug before Jessica made her way to the door. “Sorry about the door. Your dad will know who’s responsible for it.” She waved goodbye, and made her way down the steps.

When she reached the main floor, David was nowhere to be found, so Jessica wandered into the kitchen to see if she could locate her hostess. She found Sarah Lieberman leaning against the counter with a full glass of wine, and it made her unaccountable angry. She knew it was hypocritical of her to feel that way since she was a known alchoholic herself, but she didn’t have kids. She propped herself against the doorway, and considered her words carefully.

“Look, I’m in no position to judge you, because I haven’t been in your shoes, Sarah. However, that has never stopped me from giving my opinion before, and it won’t stop me now,” she said, startling David’s wife. “I won’t tell you what to do about your marriage, because that’s none of my business. I will tell you that the two of you are fucking up your kids even more than they already are because of your constant fighting. Either get your shit together, or get a fucking divorce, because you two are actively ruining those kids lives with your drama bullshit.” She started to turn and walk away, but she glanced over her shoulder to add, “Oh, and just for the record, David is a much better catch than Frank any day. If you don’t want him, there are plenty of other women out there that would snatch him up in a heartbeat, including me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Jessica walked down the hall to retrieve her coat and scarf, and met David along the way. He didn’t say anything as she wound the fluffy blue material around her neck, and he stepped outside to the porch and closed the door behind them before he finally spoke.

“I, uh, heard what you said to Sarah back there. Did you really mean that?” he asked, his lips quirking with a teasing smile.

Jessica snorted, her breath clouding in the cold air. “Fuck, no. I would snap you like a twig, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

David ran a hand through his short curls and sighed wearily. “I’m sorry the evening didn’t turn out like I had planned. Thank you for living up to your part of the bargain. I’ll be happy to give you a ride to the train station, and I’ll live up to mine by telling you what Frank said about Karen.”

Jessica tugged her black leather gloves over her fingers, and replied, “Nah, it won’t be necessary. It’s not that far of a walk, and I need the fresh air to clear away the stench of domesticity clinging to my clothes. Besides, I don’t need you to tell me anything about Frank. I saw it all for myself Friday night. He’s good enough for her. Not by much, but good enough.”

David laughed and shook his head before bravely sticking his hand out to her. “Take care, Jessica Jones. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. Our friends have a knack for finding trouble and dragging us into it with them.”

Jessica stared at his hand for a long moment before she clasped palms with him for a normal handshake. “Wish I could say I was looking forward to it. Thanks for the dinner and a show. You have a great family, Lieberman. Don’t fuck it up.”

She relished the shocked look on his face when she used his real name as she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Wahhh! It's over! I hope you guys enjoyed this second half to the story. I have had such an amazing time writing this series, and I have met so many wonderful people on this journey. Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos. Y'ALL SPIN MY HEAD RIGHT ROUND, BABY, RIGHT ROUND!
> 
> I would love to do another part to this series, but it may be a few weeks before I can attempt it. On top of family, a full-time job, and regular life, I am also going back to college to get my degree. I just started two new online courses yesterday, and I need some time to get a handle on them before I commit myself to another project. Please feel free to subscribe to my pseud so you can get updates on when I post. I hope everyone stays warm and comfortable, and that peace, love, happiness, health, and kindness finds you wherever you are in the world. Big love to you all!**


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